


What we found in the fire

by KikiDoesFanfic



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Burns, Canon-Typical Violence, Flashbacks, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Hurt/Comfort, Jaskier | Dandelion Whump, M/M, Minor Triss Merigold/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Panic Attacks, Pining, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Recovery, Sort Of, Torture, WIP Big Bang, WIP Big Bang 2020, Whump, hurt the bard, mild drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:21:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 27,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25898884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KikiDoesFanfic/pseuds/KikiDoesFanfic
Summary: Jaskier is captured and tortured by Nilfgard for information on where Geralt would take and hide the Lion Cub of Cintra, and of course it doesn't matter to them that Geralt discarded him on that mountain top.With the way things are playing out Geralt may have his blessing after all.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 132
Kudos: 671
Collections: WIP Big Bang 2020





	1. Such a burden, this flame on my chest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been almost two weeks now, and Jaskier is resigned to his fate at the hands of Nilfgard's generals, the fire is lit, and there's no escape.

They return to him on the 13th day, clearly fed up with his refusal to answer their questions, two guards carrying a brazier and a bucket of water in behind them. From where he was strung up he could see as they loaded it with wood and kindling starting a fire. Not good.

He flinched as the man grabbed his chin softly to tilt his face towards him, it had been confusing at first, him being kind, but as his first days with them passed he realised the manipulation of it.  
The woman was harsh with him, brutal in her methods, then Fergus would return after, with soft words and crooning comfort, apologising and asking Jaskier to answer so they didn't have to hurt him more. Jaskier did not want his comfort.

Fergus had been the one to approach him in the beginning, he'd been at a tavern performing as usual, receiving flirtatious winks and keeping eye contact. He was approached during his break by Fergus carrying a tankard of ale for him, introducing himself and complimenting his performance, eventually he'd asked after Geralt. Jaskier hadn't seen him for almost a month by that point, since the mountain where they parted ways, and he'd said as much. 

Once he'd returned to his songs the man had kept staring at him with rapt attention throughout, at the time Jaskier had assumed he was looking to go to bed with him, not that he was opposed per se, the man was not hard on the eyes, but he just...well his heart wasn't in it as of late.

After he'd finished for the night, locking his lute away into it's case, the man came over again, a second mug of ale in his hand and flirting heavily, hand on Jaskier's arm as they drank and asking about his songs and inspirations. Jaskier stayed polite but discouraged the contact, trying to excuse himself. A few moments after he was through his ale his vision had begun to blur, and he swayed as he stood to put some distance between them.

That was the last thing he remembered before waking up in this cold stone room, wrists shackled together.

The chain was let loose from the hook on the wall, his legs buckled under him collapsing to the stone below, it jarred his knees and he was momentarily stunned by the pain of it.  
When he blinked to clear away the tears welled in his eyes he saw Fergus crouching in front of him with the key to his cuffs.

"Come on little bard it's the last chance I'm allowed to give you" he placed a palm on Jaskier's cheek, and he was too exhausted, everything hurt, he leaned into it.

"Please, I can't" his voice croaked with the effort, he could see the flames flickering across the walls, they would be welcomed with how damp and cold his cell is, if the way his body is trembling now were caused at all by the chill in the air and not his rising panic.

"Oh but you can sweetheart" Fergus cooed, moving his thumb back and forth on Jaskier's cheekbone "all you have to do is tell us where he is, where he has the girl hidden, and this will all stop, you just have to let it."

"I don't know where he is, he could be anywhere, please" he's crying now, and it's almost a relief to just let it go.

Fergus pulled one of his wrists toward him to undo the cuff, his hands were numb from hanging overnight, so he didn't feel much, and really that might be a small mercy if they were going to go through with their threats.

"Come on beautiful you know that isn't what I need to hear, we are both well aware you know exactly where the den the wolf hides is." Both cuffs undone he starts to rub Jaskier's palms and fingers between his own, removing some of the stiffness. 

Jaskier knew, of course he knew where they'd go, he'd never been himself but he had listened to Geralt talk about Kaer Morhen after winters enough times to know he felt it his home, and where safer to hide a princess stolen away than a keep full of capable Witchers. He wouldn't tell though, it didn't matter that Geralt was done with him, and it didn't matter how useless Geralt felt him to be for shovelling shit all over his life, he could do this last thing for him before his blessing was delivered at their hands.

"I don't, so get it over with, I have nothing to tell you." His voice was blank as he could manage, offering his hands forward, resigned to his decision.

He could do this.

Fergus looped rope around his already abraded wrists,  
"Come on pet, hands together we need to protect the inside of those delicate wrists" he leaves a long tail on the rope and passes it to his sister.

"Are you sure I can't convince you? There's really no way you'll tell me?" He trailed a palm down from Jaskier's temple to his collarbone, fingers resting at the base of his throat.  
"After how well I've looked after you, you refuse do this one thing for me?"  
It was the disappointment in his voice that revived Jaskier's ire, as if he has ANY right, he seethes, allowing him to find a well of anger and resentment he thought beaten out of him days ago as he struggled to hold his tongue.

"I owe you NOTHING, you manipulative, pompous, wretch of a man." People had praised his tongue plenty of times, but never for his restraint of it, and really what did it matter now. The grip of Fergus' hand at his neck tightened for a moment before he pat Jaskier's chest and stood.

"Remember petal, that I tried to protect you from this." The amusement on his face was clear, a stark different from the faux care he usually masked himself with, and it only set fuel to Jaskier's anger, before a harsh yank on the rope gives a reminder of the situation at hand, he looks over at the woman, she had stepped over next to the brazier at some point, and slowly begins wrapping the rope over her hand for more leverage.

Knowing that he was doing this for the right reason, that he wanted this rather than betraying Geralt, didn't make the fear abate, didn't make his muscles unlock or his body stop fighting it.

"You know," the woman started, slowly hauling him closer "as much as we had hoped you'd break easy, I'm almost glad you didn't, time restraints aside this has been rather fun, you should be proud."  
Jaskier's heels scrabble at the floor in front of him, failing to halt his progress toward her, eyes darting between the flickering of the fire and her self satisfied grin.

She slows the pull to a crawl, smile turning shark-like,  
"Where is Geralt of Rivia keeping the girl." It sounds more statement than question, almost as if she's hoping he won't answer, it makes him feel even sicker with anticipation, panic clawing at his insides and mind screaming at him to flee.

When he's within a few feet of her she holds the rope at her shoulder and steps behind the brazier.

"Come on Songbird, sing for me" Fergus voice comes from behind him now but he can't take his eyes off of the flickering of the fire, rope being wound shorter and shorter.

To Jaskier it felt like time slows as he watches the woman place her boot on the side of the brazier, lower the rope and wrench him forwards so his arms pulled taut through the flames.  
It takes a moment for the pain to hit him, for the searing agony to cut through his disbelief as his flesh catches alight, and he screams, he screams until his ears ring, until he feels something give and his voice cuts out.  
The rope snaps, burnt through, when he feels his arms start to drop down to the coals he tries to lurch backwards and is stopped by Fergus' knee between his shoulder blades.  
His vision starts to white out, and he can barely hear Fergus' words even though his mouth is right against his ear, breath ghosting across his skin as he weakly struggles against him.

"Lovely, just beautiful, now tell me where is your white wolf."

He can't concentrate to answer even if he wanted to, the only sound from his mouth a choked out sob, Fergus continues talking, but all he can discern is fire and heat. His back hits the floor, and the bucket of water is thrown over him, and it's agony.

With one last soundless scream Jaskier's body mercifully gives out, the smell of his own burning flesh and fire dancing across the walls the last things he's aware of as he loses conciousness.

\----  
Jaskier is still on the floor when his head starts clearing, arms cradled towards his chest. Everything is floating, he can feel the pain in his forearms and hands but it's muted, like a layer of cotton over his brain, sounds coming in muffled as if he were under water. 

Through the haze he can identify shouts and crashes, clashing swords and pain filled yells flitting through his cloudy mind, and that was new...thinking about how long he's been laying there, it can't have been too long, but time was shifting around him like syrup.

The sounds were getting louder, closer, so Jaskier risked looking down at his hands, his skin is cratered and red raw all over, bubbled in places and charred in others, and over the backs a few noticable flashes of white catch his attention. The sight of it is gruesome but he can't tear his eyes away, staring detached as he trails his gaze down scorched cracked patches on his forearms.  
He should be feeling something, anything, but he's full of a numbness that blankets every corner of his mind and doesn't allow anything else to filter through.

Really it is probably for the best.

His eyes slip to the door when he hears an impact but it doesn't hold his attention for long, eyes sliding around the stonework of the room without purpose, watching the now guttering firelight flickering until it imprints behind his eyelids when he blinks, taunting him.

He floats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One down 10 to go, let me know what you think :)
> 
> Why yes, this chapter title IS a line from Burning by Sam Smith, it seemed fitting.
> 
> The tags and rating will be updated as the fic progresses x


	2. City made of thin glass, smoldering in pitch black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt searches the manor, hoping to rescue Jaskier with his brothers backing him up, but will there be a bard to save?

Geralt pushes further into the center of the manor, forcing through any soldiers who attack him and leaving the rest for Eskel and Lambert to clean up behind him, keeping an eye out for stairs leading downward. Ripping open a door he comes across a kitchen, startling the occupants huddling by the pantries, he turns to leave but a voice makes him pause.

"Witcher" the young woman says, barely a waver in her voice as she takes a step towards him, brave "are you here for your bard?"

Facing her again Geralt nods, at the hesitation on her face he adds "no harm will come to anyone who stays out of our way, but I will be leaving with him."

She's dressed simply, but even Geralt can see the fabric of her dress is worth a hefty sack of coin, a side effect of travelling with his bard for so long. She steps forward hushing the people she leaves behind, and brushing past Geralt through the door.

"Are you coming or not?" She asks hitching her skirt in one hand and gesturing down the hall with the other.

Following her swiftly down the halls he learns that her father is the lord of the manor, and that the soldiers had taken it over as a temporary base of operations around two weeks back, that they'd been helpless against turning them away without risking the lives of their people. She wanted them gone, and with no prisoner to hold she was hoping they'd move on, but there had never been an opportunity to stealthily release him in the time since he'd arrived.

Geralt hums and grunts in reply where appropriate, though he keeps his senses alert to his surroundings as she continues ranting on, another skill he could credit the honing of to Jaskier. She leads him to a door and pushes a set of keys at him.

"For the cells, now hurry, I don't know where the general is but she's never gone long" turning before she was even finished speaking and heading back towards where they'd came from he hears her call "good luck!" over her shoulder, before disappearing around the corner. Shrugging his shoulders and thrusting the keys into his pocket Geralt shoves the door open, barreling straight down the stairs with his steel blade at the ready.

As soon as he hits the bottom step he brings up his sword to deflect a bolt, shattering it away from his chest, the narrow stairway opening up into a large room occupied by four soldiers and a man in finer leathers holding the crossbow, the smug look on his face had Geralts lip curling into a snarl and moving aggressively into the fray.

He cuts through the soldiers with an ease born from his rage, deflecting their swords and tearing through their armor. Their numbers should have been an advantage but they have to limit their movement to avoid harming each other, and Geralt has no such concerns.

By the time the third enemy has fallen under his blade he notices the man abandon his crossbow and flee down a corridor, sparing but a brief thought for his cowardice before returning his focus to the last soldier in front of him.

Without her allies to worry about her swings were stronger and less restrained, though it still didn't take long for Geralt to find an opening to take her down, forcing his sword through her armor and into her chest. He frees his sword, and before her body can hit the ground he's already moving along the single corridor lined each side by cell doors. 

Inhaling deeply to aid in his search, his nose fills overwhelmingly with the scent of burning flesh, Geralt panics, tearing open the small windows on the doors to check each room until he sees a crumpled form on the floor. He pats his pockets briefly for the loop of keys, before thinking better of the trouble of trying them all, and launches his foot forward, thud echoing off the stone walls before a second strike had it cracking under the force and falling aside, making way for him to enter the room.

He rushes to Jaskier's side with a cursory glace to check the room was clear, kneeling beside him he could see his eyes were distant, glassy, his breath hitching and concerningly shallow, his naked torso is littered with marks too numerous in kind to list, and his hands- fuck his hands are a mess. Geralt's own hands hover uselessly above him, where does he even start, there's no clear way to lift him without hurting him further.

"Jaskier?" He didn't get a response, and he wasn't really expecting one, but he had hoped- You could barely shut Jaskier up on a good day, he even talks in his sleep on occasion, and if he could give Geralt some direction right now would have been helpful. Having some elven blood wouldn't aid him here, he might as well be human, and Geralt didn't know enough about healing humans to know how to handle burns of this magnitude. Jaskier isn't a witcher he can stabilise with potions before moving, and the rough field medicine he'd usually administer if he were hurt wouldn't cut it.

Before he can proceed the choice is taken out of his hands, swift footsteps echoing towards him from the corridor, he spun, standing ready with his sword out prepared to defend Jaskier and happy for the chance to make use of the all consuming fury at the pain inflicted on his bard at their hands. To both his chagrin and relief it is only Lambert and Eskel who round the door frame.  
They're both bloody, and from what Geralt can see very little of it is their own, not that he expected any different.

"Oh fuck, that's him then?" Lambert says craning around Geralt to get a better look "they messed him up good."

Geralt ignores him and moves aside, gesturing Eskel forward before kneeling by Jaskiers head. He hears his brother gasp, no doubt catching sight of the state of the burns on his bard's arms.

"Eskel what do I do."

"What do you expect you'd be able to do for that Geralt," Lambert says with a snort "somehow I don't think a bandage or two is gonna cut it."

"If you don't shut your mouth I'll shut-"

"Geralt that's not helping, we have to move him but I don't...how the fuck is he awake?" Eskel shakes his head  
"They're much stronger than we give them credit for"

Geralt's face softens, he runs a hand across Jaskier's forehead, pushing his hair behind his ear, and the flinch it receives hits him like a dagger. They need to make a decision.  
"Okay help me get him up, I'll carry him and you both keep the way clear" he glances at Lambert and Eskel, waiting for them to nod before moving on. Changing his silver sword into the sheath on his right clears a place for Jaskier over his left shoulder he can still wield his sword this way, if it comes down to it, just in case.

He watches Eskel adjust and grip Jaskier's biceps, wincing and the way his face contorts as he pulls him until he's sitting upright, mouth opening and closing soundlessly before his whole body goes suddenly lax. Geralt's thankful for it as they drape Jaskier over his shoulder, that he can be spared the extra pain.

He stands, keeping a steadying hand on Jaskier's hip, and checks that his arms are hanging freely, it's not the most secure, he would much prefer to keep him cradled against his chest protected from stray blades, but it will have to do. Eskel and Lambert head out first as they all move back onto the manors main floor, most of the remaining guards either scatter or are easy to dispatch, it's only minutes before they reach the door they came in through, a woman in armor leaning against it spinning her sword in her hand, flanked by a full squadron soldiers.

"You know when I clipped the little birdies wings I didn't expect to see him fly away from his cell so soon." She grins up at Geralt, smile sharp, pushing herself off the door and swaggering closer "I'll have to fix that."

Eskel takes a swing at her, but a soldier intercepts the blow, Lambert already busy with two of his own, Geralt changes his grip on Jaskier angling him away from her as much as he is able, raising his sword ready to defend until the others are finished. He could wait. He could. He wants to see her dead for what she's done, wants to be the one to do it, wants it to hurt. But the weight of Jaskier on his shoulder keeps him grounded, keeping him safe was more important than revenge.

His anger spikes again as her first strike falls toward Jaskier, it was easily blocked but the sheer audacity has him fuming and grappling with his control.

"What's wrong Witcher? Too heavy a burden to bear?" She says as her sword arcs towards him again before being swat away.  
"He called out for you you know? Wouldn't tell us a thing no matter how much fun we had with him, a shame you tossed away that loyalty and made it so easy for us, isn't it?" She kicks out toward his knee, and avoiding it comes at the cost of Jaskier's arms bumping into him with the movement.  
"Well, a shame for you, I enjoyed myself plenty." Taunting him, the grin back in full force on her face, until she glances back at her squad to see them fairing poorly, she looks almost surprised.

Underestimating Witchers so thoroughly is either born of hubris or stupidity, even as encumbered as he is, and Geralt is feeling insenced enough at her words to risk proving that to her.

Checking on his brothers to make sure the path is clear he braces to keep Jaksier still, stabs his sword into the floor and then raises his hand and casts a strong aard, sending her flying rapidly back to the wall next to the door she was leaning against moments ago.

"Woah she flew like a training dummy"  
Lambert cackles after she passes him, freeing his sword from the final soldier, he cocks his head for a moment before continuing "We should send some off the wall when we get back."

Geralt reclaims his own sword and the three wolves stalk over to her, she definitely looks shocked now, and he wonders how she could possibly have expected this to go any other way. He can't lean down enough to finish her without jostling Jaskier, but if looks could kill she would already be dealt with.

Eskel looks at him, studying the naked rage on his face, and the man hanging over his shoulder, before thrusting his sword up into her chest and twisting it.  
He waits a moment and yanks it free turning back to Geralt with a nod before heading out the door, Geralt looks back at her body, just to be sure, before following. At least it is done.

They head swiftly through the manor grounds and out to meet Yennefer where she's been waiting to portal them all back to the safety of Kaer Morhen.  
She sets her jaw when she sees the state of Jaskier, and hurries them through and Geralt knows, getting him away from this place is barely the beginning of the battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from 'Up in flames' by Ruelle :)


	3. And the shadows they burn dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yennefer and Triss take care of Jaskier, Geralt broods.

Yennefer's portal lands them just outside of the wards of Kaer Morhen, Vessemir opening the gates as soon as they approach and joining them on their way into the keep, Geralt is trying his best not to agitate Jaskier where he's balancing over his shoulder as he carries him through. His mind is stuck on a track, he can't die he can't die he can't die, running through his head on repeat as they navigate through the keep to the room they'd set up before they'd left as a precaution, he thanks his past self for the forethought, or more accurately past Triss.

Eskel helps him carefully lower Jaskier onto the table as everyone files into the room behind them, only to immediately have Triss and Yennefer shoo them back out again, Yennefer bodily shoving at the others impatiently while Triss is speaking.

"We need space to work, and we need to focus, trust us, we'll do everything we can" it takes Geralt a moment to realise Triss is talking to him, telling HIM to leave.   
He just got Jaskier back in his sight he'd be damned if he allows him to leave it again, if he doesn't know, he is helpless to heal Jaskier of the wounds he's guilty of so the least he can do is bear witness, be here if he wakes up, when he wakes up.  
As always Yennefer knows what he's thinking, she puts her hands on his chest, lightly pushing him back, and when that doesn't work shoving him more harshly.

"If you want us to help him to the best of our ability you need to get out of our way, do you WANT us to be able to do less for him?" Geralt glares at her while allowing her to move him backwards, he hates that she can so easily read him, knows exactly what buttons to push. Of course he wants the best for Jaskier, she shouldn't even need to ask, he isn't going to stand in the way of his care, but that doesn't change his need to see that he's getting better, doesn't stop his instinct to protect him while he's vulnerable.

At least he can still keep watch from here he thinks, before snarling as Yennefer slams the door in his face.

Geralt punches the stone wall before leaning aganst it and sliding down to sit, being angry won't help now, won't be productive. So he sits, picking out any sounds he can from the room behind him and waits, waits for Jaskier to need him.

That's how Eskel finds him hours later, unmoved next to the door, he places a bowl of food in front of him and sits against the opposite wall, he doesn't say anything at first, just nudges the bowl closer and stares at Geralt until he looks away.

"Come on Geralt I know you're a big stubborn ox but even you need to eat."  
Geralt stays silent, it's petty but if he wants to be a big stubborn ox that's his business.  
"Depriving yourself isn't pennace, and you know he wouldn't want that from you. You're the one who told us he pushed as much food on you as he could manage, are you really going to ruin his efforts?"

"Your manipulation is both obvious and unwelcomed, just leave me be." Geralt sighed, he was beginning to tire of this, he isn't a child who needs coddling and he isn't hurt he's just. Alright he may be punishing himself but that's his choice, he gets to decide what he deserves right now, how to stop the guilt gnawing at his insides.  
Lambert comes down the hallway, interrupting his thoughts.

"He still not done brooding?" Lambert asks flopping down next to Eskel "well no need to let it get cold" he says, shrugging as he reaches for the bowl. Geralt snatches it away and starts eating it to spite him, ignoring Lambert's smirk, the prick. 

"He will be okay you know? I know it looked really bad, but they have him" Eskel says, ever the voice of reason, but still he side eyes him hard over the bowl.

"You don't know that." Eskel makes a face so Geralt continues before he can start talking again "I know he'll be healed, I'm not doubting Triss and Yennefer can heal him to that point, but you can't guarantee he'll be okay when he wakes up. Fuck, Eskel you saw him, how could he be."

Eskel stares at him hard, scrutinising him, before seemingly coming to a decision.  
"I can, and he will. You've told us enough about him for me to know that Geralt."

"He's practically hum-"

"Don't start," Eskel interrupts   
"he's strong, and he has you here to support him, you'll get him there."

"Yeah, he'll get him there all right, Geralt's in loOove" Lambert leans across, waving his fingers in Geralts unimpressed face. He could strangle his brothers sometimes.

He's saved from replying by the sound of Yennefer and Triss talking, so he tosses the empty bowl back at Lambert's lap in retaliation and focuses on their conversation instead. Triss sounds mad, and Yennefer has that deadly calm to her voice that promises she'll get her own way, but their conversation is quiet enough that Geralt can't pick out the individual words. 

"Trouble in paradise?" Lambert muses "ugh there's about to be double the pining in here, maybe it's not too late to leave for the winter" Eskel swats at him until he quiets.

Geralt hushes him for good measure, but what little conversation he could pick up has ceased by the time he focuses back in. He can be patient, everything's fine or they would have come to get him. Or well, Triss probably would have.  
Lambert, and eventually Eskel, leave him to his thoughts, he's starting to tire, and he knows better than to think this will be finished with quickly, so he meditates to refresh his energy.

As soon as the door opens Geralt is on his feet, feeling slightly disoriented at the suddeness of the movement, but moving to look inside none the less.  
He almost bumps into Triss in his haste and she looks exasperated and a little fond, but he can see the slump to her usually perfect posture.   
He looks over at Yennefer, she's collapsed back in a chair, sleeping or passed out, he's not sure. He's well aware that both Triss and Yennefer have still not fully recovered since the battle of Sodden, the depletion of their magic from the battle taxing enough on it's own, let alone the added exertion of healing each other afterwards.

Geralt pushes back some hair from Jaskier's forhead, allowing himself to feel the relief at seeing him breathing steadily, deeply, his heart beating strongly. He'd meant what he said to Eskel, he did trust that their magic would be able to keep him alive, but there was a part of him that wouldn't dare believe it until he saw it for himself, He doesn't think he'll ever forget how Jaskier looked on the floor of that cell.

"We've done everything we can for now," Triss says as he moves around Jaskier's side "Yenn pushed further than she should have to give his hands that extra nudge." His arms are bandaged from his elbows to his finger tips, so Geralt can't see the remaining damage.

"Will this heal? His lute...Music is everything to him." He says, hand hovering over Jaskier's arm, he can't imagine him unable to play, strumming winding melodies as they travel the path had become a comfort he allowed himself to indulge, it had only been a few weeks of travelling alone, but the silence had been a lonely, suffocating thing.

"We can't be sure" Geralt looks up at the regret in her voice.  
"It'll scar, a lot of it will, there's no avoiding it now, we've made and infused salves and potions to aide in his recovery, but there's no way to know how the scarring will effect his dexterity or mobility." She looks over at Yennefer "We really did do everything we could, the next few days will give us a better idea."

"I know Triss, and I'm grateful, he will be too, when he wakes." She smiles at that, a delicate thing, before nodding her head towards Yennefer in her chair.

"Help me move her to bed and then we can go over his care and take him somewhere more comfortable." 

"Am I moving her to her own bed or yours?" He asks, remembering Lambert's quip from earlier, if the pink tinge to her cheeks is any indication he wasn't wrong about the two of them.

"I'm sure she'd be more comfortable waking in her own bed Geralt, so behave." He raised an eyebrow at the admonishment before walking over to Yennefer, putting his arm around her back to move her.

"Lift me and see what happens Geralt, I'm not your blushing maiden." She grumbles cracking an eye open "you already have one of those." He rolls his eyes, it's just like her to still needle him while on the verge of collapse. He steps back, raising his hands placatingly and heads back to Jaskier's side instead.

"Far be it for me to begrudge your independence, Yenn." He says, deadpan.   
"I'll leave her to your tender care," he adds looking to Triss "and come find you after to discuss what needs to be done with all of" he gestures to encompass the chaos of bottles, tins, and ingredients haphazardly littering the table "this."

Lifting Jaskier he leaves Triss to deal with a groggy Yennefer, making sure to position Jaskier carefully and comfortably in his arms, holding him to his chest. He allows himself a moment to breathe deeply, nose tucked into Jaskier's hair, he'd almost lost him, and not only because of Nilfgard, his own foolishness leaving him to travel alone. Geralt wasn't letting go this time, he would follow Jaskier around just as Jaskier had stubbornly followed him all these years if he had to. 

Resolve strengthened he continues on to the room he'd cleared for Jaskier, settling him comfortably in the bed with his arms free of the covers and adding a blanket from his own bed over his waist. Keeping something of himself close to Jaskier felt important, and he knows his brothers will tease him for giving in to the instinct but he finds it hard to care.

Triss comes to find him a while later, basket full of potions, herbs, and tins of salve, she tells him in great detail what each is for, how to administer them, and the schedule that she and Yennefer reccommend. It's a lot to take in, and he asks her to write it out for him as well, just so he can be sure that he's doing everything correctly.

"We're all still going to help him, you know? We aren't just going to leave you both to figure things out alone." He can tell she's teasing him, but he is glad for the reassurance, he'd been taught from a young age that Witchers lives are better lived alone, that the path they walk is a solitary one. Being reminded that his family has his back helps to ease some of the tension that had been building since he saw the sheer amount of care Jaskier needs to continue to heal, from learning exactly how hard this journey could be for him. 

"Thank you, Triss, I don't know what I'd do without- just thank you, both of you."   
She looks at him shaking her head with a smile.

"You're welcome Geralt, honestly you'd do well to remember we've never been proven to be anything but reliable." She places a hand on his shoulder, squeezing for a moment before standing and clapping her hands together "now, I am going to go and sleep until I feel like myself again, you should do the same, he probably won't wake for quite a few hours yet, come fetch me when he does."

She leaves, and Geralt stokes the fireplace enough to keep the room pleasantly warm before moving his chair into the corner, removing his armor and slouching down a bit to get comfortable, or as comfortable as he can be, and allows himself to slip into a doze.

He must have been more tired than he thought, flinching to alertness what feels like minutes later but the lack of light from the window proves to be at least 6 hours. He looks over to the bed and sees Jaskier struggling to push himself backwards, emitting a high reedy keen, eyes locked on the fireplace across from the bed. Geralt swears, lambasting himself for overlooking that this might be an issue.

"Jaskier, you're okay, you're safe." He says, moving over to kneel next the bed, blocking Jaskiers view as best he can with his torso, the bard doesn't settle, still intermittently trying to use his bandaged arms, hands, or elbows to get away, eyes panicked and unseeing.  
He's hurting himself and Geralt doesn't know what to to beyond pinning him by his shoulders to stop his squirming best he can, yelling for Triss and repeating himself endlessly to Jaskier that he's safe, Geralt is there, he's not in that cell anymore.

Jaskier doesn't hear him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of this one is from Burn for you by INXS :)


	4. I'm waking up, to ash and dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier wakes up, then wakes up again, and Geralt talks to his brothers.

Jaskier wakes up quite suddenly, one moment he's unconcious and the next he's aware of every ache in his body. He keeps his eyes closed, not knowing who might be in the room with him or how much time may have passed, it's still warm so it can't have been too long, he always ends up shivering overnight. He's on a bed, a soft comfortable one actually, nothing like the stiff cot he was allowed the first few days, which is a new and exiting method of coersion, maybe if he acts unconcious convincingly enough he can actually get some more sleep before they start up again. He doesn't want to know what Fergus has planned for this, it must be his doing, comfort is most definitely not his sisters forte.

He realises he should be in a lot more pain than he is, and that unsettles him more than the bed does, his arms were... No he refuses to think about that, he needs to control his breathing, keep it even, and that way lies panic.  
If he doesn't think about it, it's a problem for future Jaskier.  
He counts his breaths, trying to keep his mind blank enough to settle into sleep until he hears a log crack in the brazier and flinches, it's too close, he's too close, he opens his eyes and sees the flames burning hot in front of him, flickering across the stone walls of his cell, he can smell his flesh igniting again, tries desperately to scramble back as far from it as possible, sharp agony beginning to register everywhere below his elbows, he's burning again, he's burning again and there won't be anything left.  
A voice is near him, but he can't answer the questions because he doesn't know, can't know, doesn't want to betray them, and it hurts.  
His vision is tunneled on the raging flames, they're out of control, and no matter how much he struggles he can't get any further away and he's trapped, and he can't get away.  
The voice rises around him but Jaskier can't focus on the words, he knows he's sobbing but he can't quite manage to hold them inside, and then he's pinned to the floor...no there's a bed, he's on a bed, and the flames are no longer in front of him, but the darkness of the room still dances with them, he tries to slow his hyperventilating but he can't catch his breath, there's not enough air in the room, the darkness takes him.

-  
The worst part might be how helpless he feels, Geralt thinks.  
Or not the worst part, Jaskier is hurt, might never completely recover physically let alone mentally, and Geralt is the reason it all happened to him in the first place, those are the worst parts.  
But not being able to fix it, not being able to help when there's no monster to hunt down and slay, is causing cracks in his heart that his usual tourniquet of anger fails to mask.

Jaskier lies still on the bed now, he's scattered the pillows and blankets with his squirming so Geralt puts the bed to rights before setting him back down in a way he hopes is comfortable. He can smell fresh blood again, he really should go fetch Triss but she needs to recharge and he's worried about leaving Jaskier alone. She did tell him how to tend Jaskier's wounds, he just doesn't want to mess any of this up, make any of it worse.

He checks the bandages on Jaskier's chest and back first, looking for blood and evidence of pulled stitches, the bandages on his chest are still clean, but the ones on his back are covered in spots of red. Geralt hasn't properly looked at the lash marks on his back, hadn't wanted to linger on them, so he's unsure what to expect when he pulls the bandages away.  
There's a lot of them, they are mostly shallow enough to heal without stitches thankfully, but there's still a lot, they'll all heal into a raised roadmap of scars that he's sure Jaskier will despise. He always worked hard to stitch Geralt's wounds neatly, to help them heal as prettily as possible, and then minimise them afterwards with oils. Geralt has never cared about the ugliness of his scars, though if the sight of them bothers Jaskier enough that he needs to fix them he can't imagine that he'll be okay with having so many of his own.

The few stitches have held, and while some of the slashes had reopened they're already starting to scab over again, so he feels confident in cleaning them and wrapping them back up, he'll mention it to Triss later when she wakes. His ankle is still set firmly in it's splint, and Geralt can't locate any other aggravation to his injuries, he can't put it off any longer. He unwraps Jaskier's left arm as gently as possible, there are small bleeding tears in his skin and a few of the blisters are oozing but overall this is probably the best he could have hoped for, and after being healed by Yennefer and Triss it looks leagues better than it did back in that cell. He's glad to replace that image from his mind. Geralt applies some more of the salve Triss had left and rewraps his arm, tending the other before rearranging Jaskier under the covers again just as he had hours before. 

With nothing left to do he hovers for a moment, before remembering the fireplace, grabbing the poker and breaking down the remaining logs and coals to stifle the flames sooner. It's almost winter, the room will be freezing without a fire going at night, and he knows from experience that Jaskier doesn't deal well with the cold like a Witcher can. They used to simply share bedrolls and inn beds when the temperature dipped enough for Jaskier to shiver at night, Geralt putting off much more heat for Jaskier to curl up to. If Geralt were honest with himself he'd admit that he used it as an excuse, even when the weather was far more agreeable than needed for it to be necessary. He's not in the most honest mood. 

Lighting a candle and putting it low out of Jaskier's sight Geralt retakes his seat, picking up his sword to properly clean and sharpen it, daylight isn't too far off hopefully Jaskier will sleep through until then.

-  
Jaskier wakes slowly this time, he's sore but not in any overwhelming sort of pain, and he's still in the bed, feeling more well rested than he has been allowed in a long time. He cracks his eyes open, trying to be subtle but immediately has to scrunch them closed again at the brightness of the room. Sunlight! Gods it's been too long, even if it's a ploy he finds he can't muster any care, blinking his eyes open again and squinting until they adjust, eyes immediately land on Geralt, which...what? 

Geralt is sitting in a chair in the corner, sewing of all things, one of his many many black shirts, his armor is in a pile on the floor looking the cleanest Jaskier has seen it, swords and daggers gleaming on the table. He has on his concentration face, as if stitching up the tear requires all of his focus, and he looks tired, bags under his eyes, so maybe it does.

Jaskier doesn't know what he's supposed to do here, so he just stares at Geralt's hands as he works.  
He's got a long list of things he doesn't want to think about, so he feels perfectly entitled to ignore everything that happened between last seeing Geralt until now, everything is raw. Maybe he can hibernate through the Winter.

He watches Geralt for a while longer, enjoying being able to zone out and just be for a while, but he quickly starts becoming uncomfortable, laying on his back isn't exactly pleasant, and there's only so long he can filter out the pain in his arms. He must move, or make a noise or something, because Geralt's eyes immediately snap up and he's across the room before Jaskier can blink, still holding the shirt and needle in his hands, Jaskier just tracks him with his eyes, unsure what to say. 

How do you even start this  
conversation? 

'Hey Geralt, thanks for saving me again, turns out torture dungeons aren't for me, I promise I didn't tell them anything so you don't need to supervise me in your home, I'll get out of your hair as soon as I can take more than five steps without collapsing.' He grimaces, no that probably wouldn't go down too well.

"Jaskier- are you, I can..." he's never seen Geralt stumble over his words like this, it would be endearing if he didn't feel so wrong footed by it.

"I'm sorry" the words sound gravelly and wrong coming out of his mouth, and they leave a burn in their wake that he's not keen to repeat but he pushes through.  
"And thank you, for" he interrupts himself with harsh coughs, and if talking wasn't fun this is on it's own level of hell, while he's gasping to catch his breath Geralt grasps his shoulder to turn him towards his side, he startles hard away from his grip and the hands retreat immediately.

Hands held up placatingly Geralt takes a step back, he looks entirely frustrated with the situation, though that has always been his resting face so who can really tell. Well, Jaskier usually can, but he forgives himself for not being at his most discerning right now.

"I'll fetch Triss." And yes, Jaskier knows that tone. He didn't know why he was expecting things to be different now, and he hadn't really believed, but hope is a fickle thing.

He watches Geralt hesitate before leaving, and honestly what does he think Jaskier can fuck up in this state besides himself, he doesn't know whether to feel insulted, or flattered at the assessment of his capabilities. He chooses neither.

\--  
Geralt waits until he's far enough down the hall not to be heard before lashing out at the wall across from him. He hadn't really expected Jaskier to forgive him, hadn't really believed he should, but Jaskier had never been afraid of him, and he'd hoped he never would be. Hope is a fickle thing.

He heads out to let Triss know Jaskier is awake, calming himself after his outburst he checks her room he finds it empty, so following a hunch he heads over to Yennefer's room, and he's smart enough to knock on this door instead of opening it.

After some shuffling from inside Triss pops her head out, says she'll go to see Jaskier and tries to hurry Geralt along, she's slightly flushed, and her lips look kiss bitten, so he thinks it can't hurt to tease.

"You have some lipstick" he deadpans and gestures vaguely upwards, Triss' hand immediately comes up to cover and wipe her mouth and Geralt smirks at her, she narrows her eyes at him a moment before smiling herself and smacking him on the arm, shooing him away again with a laugh.

He's happy for them, they compliment each other well, and it's about time Kaer Morhen held life and joy like that within it's cold stone walls. He'd just been secretly hoping it would be his own, but he's fucked that up.

Mood brought down again he goes to find his brothers, he needs to train, to spar, something to blow off the steam of this frustration before it eats away at him. Plus he'd really just like to punch something. He makes his way down to the courtyard, and draws Lambert into a sparring match, Eskel watching to keep score.

The matches are short and brutal, Geralt throwing everything he has towards Lambert, who mostly plays defense and lets Geralt work out his anger. Usually Lambert is the one to let rage get the better of him during training, he was scolded for it plenty when they were younger, and Geralt can tell he's letting himself get too worked up, too rough in his hits but every time he starts to ease back he'll think about Jaskier's face every time he flinched away from him, the fear at Geralt touching him. 

He throws down his sword and tackles Lambert to the ground, throwing punches wherever he can land them. He's angry, and he's guilty, and he's SORRY, he's just so fucking sorry.  
He's yanked off of Lambert roughly by Eskel, tossed to his back on the ground, his chest is heaving from exertion, and when he looks over at Lambert he sees him already leaned up on his elbows looking over with a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Someone's grumpy today." He says in a sing song voice, and any slight guilt Geralt was feeling for using him as a punching bag evaporates.

"Ah yes, how unbecoming of me," He drawls back "being 'grumpy' at a time like this." Eskel kicks his boot with his own.

"A time like what? That was much more than brooding over your bard being hurt Geralt." 

He stares back at Eskel, tries to make himself look unimpressed as he can, but Eskel always had had more patience than the rest of them, with a deep sigh he reaches a hand up and Eskel hauls him upright, moving to sit together on one of the benches.

"Oh, no, don't mind me I'm fine down here." Lambert calls from behind them, and they both ignore him, straddling the bench to face each other as they sit.

Geralt is quiet and Eskel prods him, stays quiet until he prods him again significantly harder.

"Okay, fuck, I just, he's scared of me okay." 

"Everyone's scared of us sometimes Geralt, we're Witchers." Eskel looks confused, and Geralt knows he doesn't understand, Jaskier is different, he's always been different.

"He's never been scared of me, not once of me." Eskel doesn't interrupt, just waits for him to continue.

"I don't think I ever told you how we met, not the details, it was a tavern and he performed, got booed off and had food thrown at him, still walked straight up to me and said he 'loved how I just sit in a corner and brood' and then he SAT DOWN, and then he never left, not after I hit him, not after he almost died multiple times at my side, he was never afraid of ME." His voice was getting almost desperate, because fuck if it wasn't all true, he'd stayed, and he'd never once been afraid of him, and he'd taken that for granted, and now it was gone.  
"He can't even bear me touching him anymore, he flinches away, and he looks like...he looks at me like I'm going to hurt him, and I deserve it." Eskel snorts at him, and Geralt feels chastised.

"Geralt, you do remember what Jaskier's been through these last few weeks right?" Eskel's voice was gentle, and that grated on Geralt too, he didn't want softness right now, didn't need soothing when it was his fault.

"I can't FORGET Eskel, I left him alone and he was taken, and he was tortured, because of me." Eskel huffs at him in response.

"How do you know he feels like that?"

"Why WOULDN'T he feel like that? I got him hurt, I hurt hi-"Geralt is slammed in to suddenly from the side, taken down to the ground chest first.

"That's for bruising up my pretty face you prick." Lambert says from where he's seated atop his back.  
"And for being stupid, Eskel is trying to tell you that he just got tortured for two weeks straight, of course he expects to be hurt whenever he's touched." His knee is pressing into Geralts back, and he can't see his face but he knows that shit eating grin is back when he says  
"Not everything is about you, Geralt."

And maybe that's fair, Geralt hadn't thought about it like that, that Jaskier is being reminded of what he went through, that there could be other reasons he shouldn't touch him right now.

Of course he can't tell Lambert he's right, his head is big enough already, instead he pushes up suddenly, unbalancing the man atop his back enough that he can get him into a headlock and rub his nuckles into his hair. 

"You're a little shit you know that?"  
A moment later Eskel joins the fray, sitting all of his weight onto Geralt's back and crushing the tangle of them into the dirt.  
Something inside of him relaxes at how normal this feels, that he can still come out here and rough house with his brothers like children, and feel like everything will work out in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title is from Radioactive by Imagine Dragons :)


	5. Fire in my bones quakes, bending but it won't break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some care, some panic, and some more care, Jaskier has a long morning.

Being fed is, to be blunt, embarrassing, it's been a few days now, and Jaskier had always thought it would be romantic to be on the receiving end for once, but instead he just felt rather pathetic.  
He supposed the necessity of the situation negated the choice that made it feel like pampering a lover out of devotion, versus grumpily feeding soup into an 'idiot bard's' mouth because he's unable to hold a spoon.

And what a nursemaid Geralt makes, glaring holes into the utensil as it passes from the bowl to Jaskier's mouth, as if it would somehow make the situation any less awkward.

He is bored, and frustrated with being stuck in bed, he wants to explore the keep, and to meet the others.  
After his outburst when he woke up they'd kept his visitors to Triss, Geralt, and sometimes Yennefer when she wasn't busy with Ciri. Ciri who had apparently taken one look at Jaskier's arms as he was being carried past and retched, and has since retreated into her lessons with Vessemir and Yennefer until Jaskier is less prone to the minefield of flashbacks and panic attacks conversations seem to trip.

He tunes back in to Geralt talking to him, and opens his mouth for the next spoonful when prompted.

-  
"You're a fool." Geralt says, still glaring at the spoon.

He wasn't good at this, soft is not a word he would use to describe himself, yet here he is, concentrating intently on moving the spoon back and forth to Jaskiers lips without spilling any down his front. 

But he needs Jaskier to hear this, to understand. Triss had told him he'd said he was fine, acting like this wasn't the worst thing to happen to him, insisting he didn't tell them anything and telling Yennefer she could check to prove himself. As if that is what they would be worried about right now.

"If I ever let you out of my sight again you tell them whatever they ask for."  
He bit out, sighing forcefully through his nose, trying for composure. He'd been holding his tongue since he'd spoken to Yennefer and Triss, but he can't keep it in any longer.

"Ah but Geralt, that would make a very poor story would it not?" Jaskier is smirking, but the effect is somewhat lost by the bandaging and the dark circles under his eyes, the marks left behind on his skin, it only serves to anger Geralt further.

"You do not provoke your would be tourturer out of some misguided sense of adventure!" He burst out, throwing the spoon down into the bowl and standing from the bed.

"Not everything is a fun story to exploit Jaskier, you could have lost your godsdamned life." His back is to Jaskier now, the composure he was reaching for off in the wind.

"And for what, playing hero in a ballad?" He spits.

-  
Jaskier watches Geralt, back turned and shoulders heaving, and has a distinct moment of deja vu, the memory of an identical view on an unpleasant mountain a long month ago.  
He was only trying to lift the mood then too, levity having always been a reliable shield, though after so many years of travelling with Geralt he supposes he should have learned to better tell when it would be unappreciated. The comparison of the situation leaves him feeling off kilter, in his relief of escaping that place, and seeing Geralt again, waking up here with him nearby, he had almost forgiven how they last parted.

"I didn't mean to imply...you we're just being so serious Geralt, I'm fine, I'm here and I am alive, and you are safe." He glances down at his hands.  
"I would do it over again, the exact same way, for that to be certain."

"But WHY. Why must you insist on risking everything for ME." Geralt spun around to face him, he looked furious, but Jaskier knew him too well to not see the fear along side it.

"Surely you've picked up on it by now Geralt, it has been decades after all." He longs to fidget under the scruitiny, Geralt's glares rarely had an affect on him anymore, but the longer they stare the more Jaskier realises Geralt really hadn't a clue.

"Just ignore me, you know I have a flair for the dramatic, you are my friend no matter how you refuse to admit it."

Geralt deflates on a harsh sigh, grabbing the supplies Yennefer had left behind for his hands and bringing them with him to settle back on the bed.

"Let's get these sorted out" is Geralt's only reply, and it shouldn't sting that he's brushed off again, he only has himself to blame he did tell Geralt to ignore him after all, maybe he'd just hoped he wouldn't.

Jaskier focuses instead on Geralt meticulously laying out the supplies and then starting on his bandages,  
He is healing well all things considered, he knows left alone he wouldn't be healed at all by this point, praise be to magic and witches and all that, and he is greatful, he truly is.  
It's just that seeing his hands now, as Geralt slowly unwinds the bandages, he can't help but think he'll never get to play again, and what use is a bard who can't play?  
As soon as the thought surfaces Jaskier stamps it back down ruthlessly, he can't afford to open that door right now, as long as he tells himself he's fine he can deal with this, all of it.

There's no bone showing any more, and his hands have filled back out under Triss' and Yennefer's care, the charred and cracked patches have lessened significantly into blisters and angry looking broken skin, but the rest is up to his own body to heal now, along with a few salves and potions to aid it.  
The rest of his skin is bruised and abraded, stitched up or bandaged over, any non life threatening injuries still present as they'd known his hands would be his main priority, he wasn't coming out of this without his body becoming a canvas of scars, even though they'd done the best they could with their depleted energy.

The battle of Sodden wasn't kind to Triss or Yennefer, and they'd helped each other recover upon taking sanctuary at Kaer Morhen, both received shallow burns of their own in the fray, not that they hadn't healed flawlessly. Jaskier won't be bitter about that, he refuses to be, and besides, watching them dance around each other since he woke up has been a nice distraction so far. He really is thankful, and he's alive, so he can't complain. He's fine.

He snaps back from his thoughts at the first touch of the salve to his skin, and tries his best not to react, but Geralt must be able to tell, pulling away to hover his fingers over Jaskier's own.

"I'll try to be quick" Geralt says, lowering his salve covered fingers again, and Jaskier can tell he is trying to be gentle, so he clenches his jaw against the pain and zones out as best he can, only coming back to himself when fresh bandages are being fastened in place, acidic thoughts of thanking Nilfgard for his new pain tolerance creeping in.  
Geralt cups his cheek and thumbs away tears he hadn't known he'd shed, and Jaskier flinches back violently before he can stop himself, the tender touch retreating as if he'd bitten him.

"Geralt I didn't mean- I- shit" he let out a huff, bringing up his hand to scrub at his eyes, stopping when he catches sight of the bandages there, it only serves to make his frustration morph into the resentment he's been trying to keep buried. He can't feed himself, or bathe himself, he can't dress himself, or relieve himself alone, he can't play his lute, or write compositions in it's stead, he can't wipe his own god damn tears from his face, and he can't stop himself from fucking flinching at even the gentlest of care and he's tired of it all, of everything, it's too much and he can't-

"JASKIER" he startles at the shout, it pulls him back from the edge of the panic spiral he was careening towards, though he's becoming more aware of the lack of air he's able to draw into his lungs. He tries to tell Geralt he'll be fine, so maybe he'll leave and Jaskier can embarrass himself in peace, but all that comes out is a raspy squeak.

He leans forward gasping around the tightness in his chest, acutely aware that he's unable to wrap himself close to ground himself as he usually would, it undoes any progress he'd made.

Jaskier can hear Geralt swear at the edge of his awareness, and feels the bed dip behind him, but he's too concerned with trying to even out his breathing to pay it much mind.  
Geralt's hand slowly presses his chest back, and he resists slightly, just to know he can, the hand backs off a moment before guiding him again until he's leaning against Geralt's strong chest.

He can feel himself being rocked softly to and fro, and it takes him a moment to realise it's Geralt's chest expanding with exaggerated breaths, his hands coming into view, palm up and non threatening, not touching, fingers rising and falling to count along with his inhales and exhales. Jaskier tries to match them, finds it much easier leaning in to the steady warmth behind him.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the vice on his lungs begins to ease, the spots encroaching his vision receding, Geralt murmuring behind him, he looks up just in time to see Eskel retreating from the doorway and freezes. Gods he didn't need more people to see him like this. Geralt's muttering becomes clearer as it rises in volume and Jaskier again steadies his breathing, there's nothing to be done now, he supposes they've all seen him at his worst here anyway, he won't be around long enough for it to be a problem.

Or it might be, Melitele sake he's still sprawled over Geralt like...like he has any right to be, like they're friends and this isn't just- like he's forgotten that Geralt takes every guilt onto his shoulders like a shroud.  
Jaskier was taken for information on Geralt, of course he feels obligated to see his healing through. This is temporary, and the sooner he acccepts that, the sooner he let's go, the better.

\---  
Jaskier starts in his arms and moves away, so Geralt removes himself from the bed, he's breathing normally now, and Geralt's feeling too awkward to know what to say to him to lighten the mood. This is usually Jaskier's specialty.

"I...You should rest." He stands by the door a moment, "I'll bring you something else to eat in a few hours." He says, and exits the room.

He didn't mean to touch him, but it was easy to forget, and hard to stifle the instinct to reach out and comfort him.

He passes Lambert and Eskel in the hallway talking in rapid hushed whispers, and heads off to see Ciri, he hasn't been spending as much time with her while he's been looking after Jaskier. Yes, he'll go get his Gwent deck and spend a few hours with her, she was always curious about Jaskier, maybe he'd tell her some stories of their travels while they play, he's sure it won't take long for her to be endeared by him, and she'll be visiting him in no time.

\--  
The door opens again much sooner than he'd been expecting, Geralt had said he'd come back next meal time after all, so Jaskier had resigned himself to staring at the ceiling for a few hours while he waited, but it isn't Geralt who looks in.

"Knock knock, rise and shine" Lambert says as he shoulders past where Eskel paused in the doorway, presumably to check if he is prepared for guests, Lambert seems to have no such qualms.

Their arms are full, Lambert carrying cards and books and a game board, Eskel with some clothes and a bag- his bag! And his lute slung over his shoulder. He didn't think he'd see them again, and if he hadn't just exhausted himself with a panic attack he thinks he'd have cried at the thoughtfulness of it. Though seeing his lute does bring up complicated feelings, feelings he was NOT going to deal with right now thankyou very much.

"Ah, they were in the guard room near the cells, we saw them as we were passing through." Eskel says carefully, and Jaskier doesn't know what his face is doing but it must be giving away more than he intended, for him to be so cautious.

"I- thank you, I thought my composition books were lost," he clears the rising lump in his throat "truly, I'm thankful." All of his notebooks, his songs, he thought they were gone, he'd already mourned the melodies he thought would be forgotten, left to be tossed out in the weather with the rest of his things at the inn when he didn't return.

"It's nothing, oh I'm-"

"Eskel, and that's Lambert, right?" He can be cheerful, he can be his bright normal self, he can prove he's fine and maybe he'll get out of here sooner rather than later, before he can get attached.

"Well, we thought you were probably bored up here, the others might be focused on your healing, but I don't think they've thought logistics." Eskel says, and okay maybe it's too late not to get attached, this is very sweet of them after all.

"Yeah you can't use your hands, I don't know what they expect you to do up here alone all day" Lambert rolls his eyes as he says it, exasperated, and sits at the end of the bed well out of Jaskier's space. He spreads out the books and games, they're being soft with him, but not coddling, and Jaskier finds it's quite a nice change.

"The thought is nice, but ah- I'm not quite sure how I could play, or turn pages..." he trails off, as sweet as they may be, the attempt feels a little misguided.

"Yeah but we have four perfectly able hands right here don't we, it wouldn't be hard to help you, you're just looking for an excuse not to get thrashed at gwent aren't you?" Lamberts smirking, and there's a challenge in his eyes that Jaskier can't help but rise to.

"Well now, I didn't say that did I?" They spend the next hour playing, Eskel and Lambert taking turns holding his cards or moving his game pieces, and being his opponent, by the end of it Jaskier finds he isn't pretending anymore, his smile albeit small is genuine. He notes happily that without his notice during their games Lambert has gravitated to the top of the bed, not quite touching but close enough that Jaskier can and does nudge him with his shoulder or elbow him while they trash talk each other's losses. It feels like progress.

The longer they play the more his banter is interspersed with yawns, restless nights catching up with him, and eventually his company notices.

"You look like shit, have you been sleeping at all without being forced unconcious?" He's beginning to learn Lambert has no tact, but he does enjoy him not ignoring the torture shaped elephant in the room.

"Mm well I'm not quite tired yet, perhaps a book?" They both look at him skeptically, that same raised judgy eyebrow he'd swear was a genetic trait if not for the whole Witcher thing.

"Oh enough with the eyebrows, the three of you could be triplets, it's unsettling." He shivers slightly in the chill of the room, moving a fraction closer to Lambert's warmth beside him.

"You think my face looks anything like Geralt's ugly mug, did they blind you as well?" Lambert looks vaguely offended as he says it, Jaskier can't help but smile.

"Speaking of Geralt." Eskel starts, and wow what a segue, though he supposes it was only a matter of time before they got curious.  
"How long were you two travelling together?"

"22 years." He doesn't mean to be curt, or maybe he does, Geralt is still a sore subject.

"Two decades is long time, why did you stop?" How does Jaskier even begin to answer that? He'd half assumed Geralt would have already told them, but maybe it was yet to come up...should he start with the dragon hunt, or further back when he'd started messing with Geralt's life?

"He tired of me I suppose, not that it was surprising really, I tend to have that effect." They're both looking at him expectantly, and what does he really have to lose, it isn't as if he'll see them again after he leaves this place. The story comes out in fits and starts, the court in Cintra, the djinn and meeting Yennefer, the dragon hunt, some details like his fillingless pie voice, the coast, and Geralt's fucking Yennefer in a collapsing building escape without him meaning to let them. It was too hard to stop the flood of words once they'd started.

"He said I was always shovelling shit onto his life, he wasn't really wrong either, even if it hurt to hear. I hadn't...I didn't mean to." He can feel their eyes on him, they're both looking at him, but he's afraid to see pity on their faces so he stares down at the blanket instead.

"The last thing he said to me was that 'if life could give him one blessing' it'd be to 'take me off his hands', I left after that, finally took the hint I guess, it was probably long overdue." He sighs heavily, and his guests stay quiet, a surreptitious glance shows they're having a silent conversation across him, it's awkward and not in any way stealthy. Witchers.

"Well, not that I haven't quite enjoyed story time, but I think you're right, I'm rather tired, thankyou for the games and the books." He plasters on a smile and expects them to leave, to take the out he's given them and let him wallow in peace, but they don't move, Lambert reclines further if anything.

"Geralt's an idiot, you should write about me instead, I'm quite song worthy you know." Lambert says haughtily.

"We both have plenty of stories if you're looking for new material." Eskel adds.

"Yeah come on, pick a creature any creature, it can be a bed time story" Lambert teases with a grin, that falters when Jaskier shivers again.  
"I always forget how cold you lot get, it's not even fully into winter yet, we should bring up more wood for the fire, no wonder you aren't sleeping."

"That's...not the best idea at the moment" Jaskier raises his arms and waves them in all their bandaged glory. "When I wake up to it, it's not- it's not pretty." It's embarrassing to admit, but they seem to take it in stride, at least they don't tease, he's not sure he could take it, feels brittle over it in a way that leaves him feeling wrong footed.

"Well, you need a good nap without freezing your bollocks off, and that's easy enough to arrange, here shove over." Lambert moves to the wall and Jaskier hesitates, shuffling closer to him, Lambert gestures with his head and Eskel joins them on his other side.

"You good?" Eskel asks, and Jaskier takes stock, they're on top of the covers while he's under them, and they're sitting up leaning against the wall at the head of the bed, strangely he doesn't feel trapped, and Lambert was right, this is much warmer than before, so he settles low enough that his head is on the pillow.

"I think so," he interrupts himself with a yawn, "you owe me that bed time story, tell me about golems, and you best give me details if you want a song out of it."

"Of course you'd pick a hard one" Lambert snorts but starts anyway, as Eskel settles in with a book.  
"Once upon a time there was a handsome, talented Witcher..."

"Ah, so this is Eskel's story?" Jaskier hums, startling a laugh out of Eskel, his eyes half lidded, the warmth around him lulling him towards sleep quicker than he'd expected, he'll have to ask him the details again later at this rate.

"You're a little shit, just for that you can wait until tomorrow, Eskel read some of your book." Eskel obliges, and Jaskier ends up falling asleep to the sound of their voices, Eskel reading and Lambert snarkily commenting at leisure. It's more peaceful than he can remember feeling in a long time, it feels like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit longer, I got a tad carried away haha
> 
> Title is from Fire in my bones by Fleurie


	6. I'm taking it slow, feeding my flame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt is not jealous, Jaskier finds he has more friends around than he thought, and Geralt's brothers help him realise something important.

Walking in on Jaskier sleeping peacefully bracketed by his brothers is...fine. He doesn't almost drop the bowl he's carrying, and his knuckles certainly aren't turning white with tension where he grips it in an attempt to stop himself going over there to remove them himself. Definitely not.

Eskel lowers his book, the knowing look on his face is hard to look at, almost as much as Lambert's smirk when he raises a single finger across it, as if to remind Geralt to be quiet. He narrows his eyes.

Eskel takes pity on him,  
"He hasn't been sleeping, it's too cold for him alone without a fire, so we're...helping." he whispers, and that's a fair point, Geralt had noticed the dark circles getting deeper under Jaskier's eyes day by day, he just hadn't thought that would be the reason. It's an obvious problem now in hindsight.

"He needs to eat, he has remedies to take on schedule." Jaskier's sleeping so peacefully, he's loathe to wake him from finally getting proper rest, but he does need to eat, and if Geralt's honest he can't squash the feeling rearing in his chest, it's not jealousy, he's not jealous.

"I don't know Geralt, I'm quite comfortable here, he looks very relaxed too, I'm sure I could take care of him tonight." Lambert says, crossing one leg over the other.

Geralt practically snarls at him in reply, eyes darting to check he hasn't woken Jaskier immediately after, and Lambert looks like he's won something, the smug bastard, Eskel slaps his shoulder halfheartedly chastising.  
"Come on, I'm hungry too, let's head down and leave them be."  
They gently rise from the bed, careful not to jostle Jaskier or wake him.

"Alright, guess I can always come back later and keep him warm tonight." He leers at Geralt as he passes, knocking their shoulders harshly as he goes, Eskel clasps his forearm to stop him spilling Jaskier's food at the blow. He holds on a moment longer than he needs to, and Geralt feels like he's being assessed, before he let's go, thumps him on the back, and heads out after Lambert.

He wakes Jaskier, half listens to him talk about his afternoon, beating Eskel at cards even if he suspects he was allowed to win and Lambert's insistance he was cheating whenever he bested him, in between feeding him mouthfuls of soup and sips of tea.   
He seems much happier after spending time with his brothers and getting some proper sleep, he tells himself it was just the sleep. 

Geralt should talk to him about keeping him warm at night, wants it to be HIM that does it, but the closest he comes is bringing more furs from his own room, a silent offering. He wonders if Jaskier can tell that they are his, he hopes he can.

Eventually Yennefer comes in to assess his healing and Geralt retreats, heads out to go brush Roach, maybe he can take her on a ride to clear his head, she'd probably like that.

It doesn't clear his head, he can't get Jaskier off his mind.

\--  
Jaskier is there again, on his side with his head in Fergus' lap, hand stroking through his hair.

"Back with me sweetheart?"

Jaskier doesn't answer, he starts to shift away and his back stings something awful, what scares him is knowing they're going easy on him, 'wouldn't want him to expire too soon' the woman had said when she dropped him back to the floor. Fergus shushes him as he pulls him back the short distance he'd managed to escape.

"I really wish you wouldn't do this, you know." He says, pushing Jaskiers hair back from his forehead.   
"Why do you insist on doing this to yourself? We wouldn't have to hurt you if you would just answer our questions" the hand pauses in his hair and he can feel it tighten on the strands between his fingers.  
"It's almost like you want to be hurt"  
When he resumes carding through his hair, occasionally rubbing at his scalp, Jaskier almost forgets he's supposed to be pulling away, it just feels too nice after the day he's had, and gods it felt like so long already, even though he's only been here that one day.

"Haven't I been good to you? Just let me look after you, it'll be okay"  
Jaskier does recoil at that, pulling himself forward with his arms as far as he is able before curling up facing the wall, back be damned because he knows what Fergus is trying to do, he does, so why does pulling away have him supressing a sob? No, he's fine, and as long as he keeps telling himself that, he can convince himself he will be.

He blinks rapidly, forcing away the image of bleak stonework and back to, well, the slightly less bleak stonework of Kaer Morhen, to find Yennefer standing a few steps away. The expression on her face is hard, but her hands are by her side, pose as unthreatening as she can make it, a feat in itself when you're a ridiculously powerful, ridiculously scary sorceress.  
"Are you back wi-" she changes track suddenly "you certainly look more alert"

All she'd done was push his hair from his face and he'd been taken back there. One single gesture. Jaskier is tired.

He sighs "you know it's impolite to rummage around in a man's head without their permission, at least buy me dinner first." The skin of his scalp crawls with the sensation of phantom hands he can't erase, his own damaged as they were, and it wears at him.

"You weren't breathing right, and you disappeared on me, I thought it would help to know what I was dealing with."   
She said, waving a hand and looking to the side, her words were flippant, but her face shifts to something vaguely resembling contrite so Jaskier let's it go.

"Just keep whatever you saw to yourself please, I am fine."

\---

Yennefer looks at him then, he always says he's fine, throughout everything he'd always insisted on it, when asked how his hands were feeling, if he were warm enough, if he were hungry, uf he were in pain, it was always the same. He was always simply fine, and maybe she had taken that at face value.

"Jaskier, what I saw wasn't- you don't have to be fine all the time."

"He barely ever hurt me, it's not...I AM fine."   
Jaskier isn't looking at her as he speaks emotionless, his eyes unfocused and staring through her, he has this ability to disassociate that she doesn't know whether she admires or pities. He probably wouldn't want her pity.

"Hurt doesn't have to be physical to leave it's mark Jaskier, you of all people know that." Pausing she thinks on how to be delicate, you were supposed to be delicate with recent torture victims, but maybe everyone walking on eggshells is precisely the problem, she isn't going to coddle his self recrimination.   
"Do you think he did not know what he was doing to you? That it was the first time they'd tried to force information from someone?"

"What he did to me wasn't torture, he was-"

"That's horseshit Jaskier and you know it" Yennefer burst out, bringing her clenched fist down on the arm of her chair,  
"he purposefully ruined gestures of comfort for you, of safety, would you begrudge anyone else for feeling haunted this way or are you only a half-wit when it comes to your own emotions?" Eyebrow raised and staring him down, she watches him deflate, making eye contact with her proper.

"I wouldn't, you know I wouldn't, but it's harder when it's yourself, I should be over this" he looks to the side again,  
"after all that pain and hurt, all it took was a little tenderness to do me in." His gaze drifts back to hers and she can see a sharpness return behind his eyes.  
"I hate that they stole gestures that were so reassuring with such ease."

She does step forward at this, and clasps his shoulder, he flinches at the contact and his breath hitches but she waits him out, as soon as a relative calmness returns she put as much fierceness into her words as she can manage.

"Then we will help you, and you'll take it back."

Jaskier stares her down a moment, holding a tight lock on the gratitude trying to well from his eyes, she looks so sure, and he can't help the warmth in his chest at knowing he isn't alone.  
"It's different than what I expected, you know, being your friend." She scoffs moving back and sitting on the bed.

"Is that what you'd call us? Well, don't expect any gooey comforting heart to hearts any time soon bard, you're still a menace." She looks bored as she says it, but Jaskier can see the change, the performance of it, he thinks he'll quite enjoy being Yennefer's friend.  
"I'm sure Geralt would love to comfort you though, in every sense of the word, once you two get your heads out of your rears. Lovestruck fools the both of you." Or maybe not, maybe Yennefer is still an evil, evil witch, but let nobody say he can't spar with her.

"Oh, I'm sure you'd recognise all that gooey lovestruck foolishness you've seen in yourself." He smirks putting on an affected accent, and moving the back of his hand toward his forehead.  
"Oh Triss, let me get the door for you, Triss that looks heavy let me take it, Triss do you need more herbs, oh Triss let me help you." With his last words he swoons backwards against his pillows in an exaggerated faint, cracking an eye to look over at her.

"I'm sure I don't know what you're talking about." She says, through slightly grit teeth, she appears to be intently examining her nails, though her cheeks are blushing red and giving her away.

Yes, Jaskier thinks, they'll make wonderful friends.

\--  
It's days later when Geralt finds himself working outside with his brothers, Vessemir had tasked them with finally repairing the stable and surrounding fences that they'd left the last few winters, the horses were well behaved enough to ignore the gaps and fallen boards, but with the addition of Lil' Bleater it had become necessary. Goats were crafty.

He grabs another long board from the pile, holding it in the center so Eskel and Lambert can nail in either end at once.  
Conversation so far had been abrupt, he doesn't like admitting it but his mood had been sour since he spoke with Jaskier a few days before, so he was perfectly content to work until he was tired enough to collapse into sleep and not think about it, not that his brothers weren't determined to do otherwise. 

"So, I had an interesting talk with Jaskier the other day." Eskel is still looking forward where he's securing the board, but he's slowing down, and a glance tells him Lambert is doing the same. It feels like a trap.

Geralt grunts at him, not ready to concede yet, and moves to pick up the next piece of wood.

"Why did you two stop travelling together? You were right, he seems to not mind Witchers at all." Ah. So that's what they were aiming for, better to get it over with.

"We had a...disagreement and needed to cool off. We went our seperate ways down the mountain." He grits his teeth, he shouldn't have let Jaskier leave, should have went with him down the mountain and they could've given each other space...where he could still see him. He would have figured something out.

"Huh, seems simple enough, what was the disagreement about?" And this is definitely a trap, Eskel seems far too agreeable and he's not looking at Geralt, Lambert is though, and the smirk of anticipation on his face does not bode well.

"Nothing important. It doesn't matter now." He grunts it out, praying for the end of the conversation even though he knows they won't drop it. Why do they have to pry.

"Oh, I'm sure it doesn't, so hey Geralt, can you hand me some more nails, Eskel took the rest of mine off my hands."  
And that tickles the back of Geralt's mind, but he tosses a full sack of nails at Lambert's feet and carries the next board over to hold it in place.  
The silence only lasts a few moments, until the board is secured, before Lambert starts up again.

"When we're done with this, maybe someone can clean out the stables before we let the horses back in, how about you Geralt? Are you up for shovelling some shit? I'm sure it won't take you long."

"Lambert." Eskels tone is a warning, but he's clearly trying to supress the quirk of his lips. Geralt has frozen on the spot, halfway lifting a board he's gripping with much more strength than the task requires. He clenches his jaw and forces himself to keep moving, place the board, hold it steady, ignore Lambert's teasing. He knows he shouldn't have gotten mad, knows he shouldn't have yelled things he didn't mean, he was just angry and Jaskier was there, and he didn't want to feel responsible for every bad choice he's made for once. Especially after having Yennefer and Borch practically throw them into his face.

But Jaskier always seemed to be able to read him better than anyone, had always made it seem easy, so he'd been sure he'd known that. Granted he had looked hurt when Geralt had been shouting, but he'd said he would talk to the others about the hunt, so he'd assumed...

"You know, it's great that the three of us are here, it makes this so much easier, it really is a blessing."   
"Lambert-" Eskel interrupts, but Lambert ignores him and plows on.  
"-Right Geralt. Wouldn't you say it's a blessing?" His smile is more of a sneer now, voice less teasing, and Geralt has had enough, he'd automatically moved over to pick up the next board, hadn't realised his anger was crossing from a simmer to a boil, he's not proud that his reaction to Lambert's poking is to throw the board in his hands until it's already bouncing off his face with a thunk. He's not proud but he can't say it isn't satisfying.

"I didn't MEAN IT. It's not like he doesn't know that so stop being a PRICK." Geralt shouts.

"If your first reaction to being annoyed is to hurt someone I can see why he left." Lambert's voice is quiet and laced with venom, and Geralt probably deserves it, but the implication rattles him more than it has any right to. He wouldn't-

"He's HUMAN, of course I wouldn't, you're a fucking Witcher Lambert." He's seething as he takes a step towards him, getting angrier by the second until Eskel gets in between them with a hand on his chest. "Besides you can't talk, you made me bleed this morning for trying to take a second serving of breakfast. It's different for us. I wouldn't hurt him like that."

"Just because you didn't use your fists doesn't mean you weren't hitting him where it hurt. He probably would have preferred a punch." He's snarling now and jostling at Eskels back and pushing at Geralt's shoulder.

"I'm your BROTHER. Not him. It was just a fight." His anger is dampening now, giving way to a hollow feeling in his chest, he only has so many people on his side, his brother's are the only one's he's trusted to unconditionally be there.

"Yeah fuckface, so it's my job to tell you when you're being an idiot, you're gonna lose something good Geralt, something we all want, and apparently you keep. throwing. it. aside." He's pushing at Geralt's shoulder with each of his words by the end, but the heat in it has dropped, and Geralt understands.  
"We want you to be HAPPY."

"We're on your side you know, no matter how immediately charming the bard is, or the fact that we're definitely adopting him into our little wolf pack as soon as possible." Eskel's voice is soft, reassuring, but the teasing at the end is thankfully enough to break the tension.

Geralt moves back to his spot and continues working, he doesn't really know what to say, he needs some time to process if he's honest, and it fills that hollow space that his brothers come and join him, know him well enough to let him mull over their words.

They're halfway finished on the side of the stable before he feels ready to talk about it, thinking back he has pushed Jaskier away whenever he was angry at something or someone else. Poked where he knew would upset him and push him, but Jaskier never seemed to take it to heart, and he always came back...until the mountain.  
If Jaskier is still dwelling on what he said...well, fuck.

He realises he's been standing frozen in place for quite a while, and looks over to Eskel.

"He thinks you hate him, you know?" Eskel's voice is a lot softer than he feels deserves after that revelation hits him.

"But he's- he doesn't- why THIS time? Of all the things I've said to him, why now? He's never..." Geralt trails off.

"What, like when you told him his voice, the thing he makes his living with and went to train at college for, was like ordering pie and finding it had no filling?"

"Or that time he thought you were dead because a building collapsed but you were really just inside fucking Yennefer."

"Or when he asked you to go to the coast with him in what sounded to me like being very close to a confession, and you didn't answer and just walked away to go have sex with Yennefer?"

"Yeah, who would remember any of that?" Lambert rolls his eyes at him, and Geralt is floored, okay so he KNOWS he did those things, but Jaskier never...

"Fuck." He was at a loss.  
"What do I do? How do I fix it?"

"Fucking hell Geralt, try apologising." Lambert says exasperated, Geralt's starting to think if he rolls his eyes many more times they're going to get stuck back there.

"I, right, I'll do that." Theres a few moments where all that can be heard is hammering before Geralt retrieves another board, he fiddles with it a moment before dropping it back on the pile,   
"I need to-" he gestures off at the keep.

"Yeah yeah, we'll finish up here, go on." Eskel pats him on the shoulder as he passes, Lambert giving him a little shove, and Geralt can't help but be grateful for his brothers as he walks to the keep, trying to order his thoughts before he talks to Jaskier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While this fic uses mostly show events/timeline I feel like my use of the characters is more of a mish mash of the shows, the games, and the parts of the books I've read all smushed togther lol
> 
> Title is from Eyes on fire by Blue Foundation.


	7. And the dark sucks on the embers of the fire, my heart smolders in the night.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They finally talk.

The knock is unexpected, Triss had already come by to check on him, Yennefer was off training Ciri, the Witchers were all off playing with horses or something, and Vessemir still off down the mountain in town for supplies. That and most of the people in the keep didn't knock to begin with, not even Eskel bothers to anymore.

Jaskier waits a few moments but nothing happens,  
"Come in?" He says, more than aware it sounds like a question, soon followed by Geralt opening the door, which honestly is even more confusing. Geralt definitely never knocks.

And he usually doesn't just stand there like a statue staring at him either, or at least not when he hasn't said or done something outrageous to earn it.

"Geralt?" He jumps as Jaskier says it like he'd somehow forgotten he was there even while staring right at him, he's being strange, mouth opening and closing without saying anything. Maybe something bad has happened, but Geralt doesn't look panicked.

"Did- did something happen?" His eyes find Jaskiers and he shakes his head sharply, so if nothing bad is going on, and Geralt is just reluctant to tell him something, or to ask him something maybe? Oh god is he going to tell Jaskier to leave? Has he outstayed his welcome?   
It's been...how long has it even been, oh gods, he should have- he should have been more prepared for this, he knew he was going to leave as soon as he's well, but he still can't even feed himself. He can't play his lute for coin, maybe he can sing, but his throat still isn't really up for it, not enough to compensate for the lack of instrument, and it's not like he can find himself a warm bed any other way in this state, fuck what's he even- 

He's shaken out of his thoughts by Geralt, by the grip on his shoulders, and jerks away. He's breathing heavily and there are tears on his face he was blissfully unaware he was shedding until now, this is plenty of embarrassment for him today, maybe it's time to head to sleep and try again tomorrow. Or maybe not tomorrow, well probably tomorrow, it's too late in the day for them to make him leave now right? Surely they wouldn't make him camp out there in the dark.

He looks around the room, it had started to feel more like his own since Eskel brought his things, a mess of books and games left from their visits, a mix of clothes spilling from a drawer to the side, it felt more lived in and cozy than it had any right to for a mostly bare cold stone room, he was going to miss this. He was going to miss them.  
He looks up over Geralt's shoulder, where he's backed a few steps down the bed, tries to keep his tone even and fails miserably.

"I'll head out in the morning, I can- I won't- I'll get out of your hair and- fuck" he cuts himself off and draws a trembling breath to compose himself, glances at Geralt quickly to try and gauge his chances, but Geralt looks horrified, jaw slightly dropped and eyes wide. Shit he didn't want it to go like this, he was supposed to walk away cleanly, not get attached to this place, ignore his broken heart and carry on with his dignity in tact, but he starts to sob, can't hold them back, smothers them behind a bandaged hand.

\--  
"I did this to you, didn't I? This is my fault. I thought-" Geralt sighs harshly at himself, he wants to move closer again and comfort him but he doesn't think it's welcome, he wouldn't welcome himself right now if he were Jaskier. Jaskier who wants to leave him again, who Geralt should let leave, but he can't, least of all because he's still not well.  
"I didn't realise, Jaskier I promise I didn't know, don't leave, just stay, don't leave me again."

"Wait," Jaskier hiccups around a sob, his eyes are wide now peering on from behind his hand,  
"I thought- you're not kicking me out yet?"

"What? Of course not why would I make you leave? It's almost Winter you wouldn't make it half way down the mountain, and you're still hurt." Geralt is incredulous, how could Jaskier think...ah right.  
"I wouldn't do that to you. You're only hurt because of me in the first place."

"But that's the problem!" Jaskier bursts out, arms flailing out to his sides,  
"You feel like you have to do this because you feel guilty about everything like a big broody lunk." He sniffles,   
"I'm not- you aren't obligated to help me, I don't blame you, even if you hadn't come and rescued me like a knight in blood soaked leather I wouldn't have blamed you."

"But you SHOULD, I-" 

"Well I don't, it was not your fault, and you don't get to tell me how to feel." He interrupts so decisively, and the tone implies a 'so there' on the end and Geralt is floored, because what else can he be.

"So...so you have no debt to me, Geralt, and you can tell me to leave without- without feeling guilty for it." He's so resigned, this whole conversation is like being repeatedly buffeted by waves, each time he thinks he understands how deeply he's effected Jaskier another wave comes to bowl him over. And Jaskier's just accepting it. Has always just accepted it, usually with dramatic fanfare but, it's not like he'd ever gotten an apology.

"I think, that we haven't been understanding each other very well." He thinks over the part of his speech he'd prepared on the way here, he needs to get this right so there's no more misunderstandings between them.  
"I haven't been very fair to you, I assumed you understood when I meant or didn't mean what I said and took that for granted, and looking back it feels foolish, because they would have often looked the same." He takes a deep breath to center himself, holding up a hand when Jaskier makes to speak.  
"Just, let me get this out, I'm trying."

"I'm sorry." Geralt makes eye contact with Jaskier, hoping to show his sincerity.  
"I'm sorry for insulting your work, and I'm sorry for insulting your capabilities, and I'm sorry for saying I blamed you, I never truly did, I was angry and I struck out at the easiest target and I'm sorry."  
Jaskier looks like he's going to cry again and gods he's fucking this up.  
"I didn't mean it, I swear I didn't mean it, I don't- I don't hate you, and you've always been a blessing. Always Jaskier. When you followed me across the continent, every day you spent annoying me, when you babbled endlessly and it filled the silence I hate when I'm travelling alone, when you wrote that fucking song that made Witchers into folk heros even though it gets stuck in my head, when you doted on Roach and spoke to her even though you made fun of me for doing the same, when you looked after me, and when you bullied me into looking after myself. Always." He takes a deep breath to steady himself and moves his eyes lower, watching Jaskier's chest as he breathes instead, letting it calm him.

"I have few people I consider friends, and I'm lucky to call you my best, and if you allow me I'd like to prove it to you."  
Jaskier sobs again, there's tears streaming down his face and he looks, gods he looks pained and Geralt's made a mess of things, he's said too much.  
He takes a step back but before he gets any further from the end of the bed Jaskier shuffles onto his knees and throws himself towards him, upper arms bracing around Geralt's waist, and face pressed to his chest. 

He doesn't know what to do, he lifts his arm to put it on Jaskier's back but freezes when Jaskier says,  
"Just, stay still, I can't, but I need-"  
Geralt hushes him, lowers his arm back and waits for Jaskier to compose himself.

Eventually Jaskier sniffles and pulls back, flopping back onto the pillows.  
"That is possibly the most I've ever heard you say at once." If he's teasing then he's already much more himself, and Geralt finds he wants to play along, so he replies with a simple 'Hmm' setting Jaskier off into a round of slightly wet sounding laughter.

"I missed you, you know? It hasn't really been that long, but..." He trails off as he wipes his face best he can on his shoulder and biceps, on what Geralt now realises is one of his own shirts. He's unsure whether to strangle his brothers or thank them, seeing Jaskier in his clothes brings up some very distinctly non friend related thoughts.

"I missed you too."

\--  
"I can't let you blame yourself for this entirely though Geralt, I am not always an easy person to travel with, no don't look at me like that, it's true, and I HAVE gotten us into plenty of situations over the years." 

"And I do understand you, I wouldn't have followed you for so long if I didn't, but that day made me doubt that I ever had at all, made me second guess, I suppose I should have had more faith, all this," he says, gesturing at himself   
"Could have been avoided." 

"I'm sorry for leaving you." Geralt looks, well he looks a bit speechless, and Jaskier can't help but poke him.  
"Am I forgiven or?"

"Yes." Geralt's answer is immediate and firm, and it settles warm in Jaskier's chest, and Jaskier, he wants him close, needs to keep him here after so long with him feeling so far out of reach. It can't hurt to ask right?

"Well good, because I have a favor to ask." He keeps his tone light, so he can play it off as a joke if he needs too, Geralt just nods his head, as if he's already accepting it.

"It gets cold in here at night, I know you've noticed because you've piled enough furs on here that I could stock a market," he presses on, hoping Geralt can't pick up on how nervous he's feeling, when he said he missed him he wasn't lying, and it felt like he needed to make up for lost time and keep him close, to sleep with him, or next to him, he means next to him. Though he wouldn't mind either really and that is a wonderful image, he could- 

Geralt hums, prompting him to continue, and Jaskier realises he may have gotten slightly distracted, he clears his throat amd hopes the blush he feels heating his cheeks isn't showing much on his face.  
"Will you stay here with me?" Geralt doesn't answer immediately, not that he gives him that much of a chance to before he pushes forwards,   
"I mean we've done so before plenty of times, shared beds in the inn or bedrolls when it was cold, and it wouldn't be much different, and well your brothers are warm enough that I get to sleep so it stands to reason you'd be even better, and I can't imagine spending a night next to Lambert he looks like he snores and it's not that I NEED it to be able to sleep, and I'd be fine without you really I just thought that-" 

"Okay."

"It would be nice for both of us, and-"

"Jaskier, I said I'd do it." Geralt says cutting off his babbling.

"Oh well that's...good, that's good."  
The silence that descends on them isn't awkward, but it isn't confortable either, Jaskier is tired again, who knew pouring out all your emotions could do that to a person. Okay well he did, he's done enough of it lately to be an expert, but still.

Geralt seems to sense his shift in energy,  
"You should get some rest, Triss said I'm allowed to take you for a walk later, if you're up for it." He moves forwards slowly and begins to bundle Jaskier's body in the furs from where he'd displaced them earlier.  
"I should get back to the stables, Lambert and Eskel won't be happy I saddled them with all the work."  
He stares at Jaskier a moment before his expression softens,   
"Or I could leave them to it."

Jaskier hears the unspoken question, and he could swoon at how considerate Geralt is being, giving him an out, but he hasn't changed his mind.

"Stay." He says, and Geralt does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay communication, finally friends again!
> 
> Title is from The Light by David Gray.


	8. Burn everything you love, then burn the ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything is peaceful, Jaskier is improving, so of course trouble comes to town.

The next few days are wonderful, or as wonderful as they can be when you're still covered by unhealed burns and wounds, he and Geralt spend a lot of time together, his brothers visit more, he meets Ciri properly when Geralt carries him down to sit in the morning sun, and he even gets to go for short walks around the keep and watch the Witchers sparring. It's all very impressive considering he's still mummified in bandages and has a splint on one ankle, but he feels like he's doing well, feels more independant, though he still refuses to be brought down for meals, something about being fed like a child in front of everyone still stings his pride.

He does enjoy seeing Geralt and his brothers interact though, in Vessemir's absence they take to chores like naughty school children away from their teacher, rough housing and tripping each other up. But by far his favorite is the way they've all taken to getting revenge by telling Jaskier embarrassing childhood stories about one another. 

He hears all about the time Eskel was chased up a tree by a bear because they'd decided to explore a cave out in the forest surrounding the keep, and he'd had to stay there until morning. About Eskel and Geralt convincing Lambert that if he ate enough dandelions he'd be able to turn into a rabbit Witcher, and Lambert ate enough that he'd made himself sick with it. Of the time Lambert and Eskel had stolen Geralt's clothes while he swam in the river and he'd had to run all the way back to the keep without them.

He feels so much closer to Geralt, feels like he's making an effort to let him into his life, and he finds himself happy, optimistic about his future going back to normal, even if he's a bit scared to outwardly show it, just in case.  
He's gone two days without a panic attack, and as long as he initiates contact he doesn't get thrown into a flashback, it helps that they've identified most of the things that set them off, Jaskier thinks he's finally healing.

So of course that's when things go pear shaped.

\--  
It's only a few days later that Vessemir returns, bringing a full laden cart of supplies up the mountain path takes time, he brings news of someone searching for a white haired Witcher in the town at the base of the mountain, and the man fits Fergus' description.

"No Jaskier. You're not coming, and that's final!" Geralt is practically spitting with anger, but Jaskier isn't going to back down.

"If he sees me alone he'll make contact, you know this will work, I can handle myself and in the event that I can't you'll be there, I'll be perfectly safe." It's not like he was looking forward to seeing him again but he also didn't think he could live with knowing he was just...out there somewhere. Could be around any corner. He'd never be able to travel again, and certainly not alone, how could he settle in a tavern to sleep, or play while Geralt was out on a contract, with the threat of Fergus hanging over his head?

No, Jaskier needs to go, needs to be there and see Fergus die with his own eyes if he's ever going to exorsize the presence haunting him.   
And really how would Geralt stop him? As soon as he leaves to head down the mountain Jaskier will simply follow him.

"You. Aren't. Coming." Geralt's voice gets low, a deadly sort of calm that sinks like a stone in Jaskier's gut. "If I have to tie you up to keep you here I will."

And that, no, he can't deal with that. Geralt's protective streak is a mile wide and Jaskier has always found it alluring but he is not his keeper.

"Oh, you'll become my new captor while slaying the old one then?" He throws back at him   
"I refuse to trade one prison for another, you're either my friend or you're not Geralt, and you best believe if you keep me here against my will you've made that choice." Jaskier's voice was cold as ice, he wouldn't forgive it if Geralt bound him and left him here, even before the torture, even before the mountain, he'd like to believe he'd not have let Geralt walk over him in that way and still hang around after like a dog after scraps.

He's always valued the power of his own choices, no matter where they lead him, and nobody, not even his beloved witcher, would get to take that from him.  
And thankfully he seems to be getting that through his thick skull.  
Geralts shoulders slump, hand wiping over his face and grasping his hair momentarily in frustration.

"I didn't mean- I wouldn't- I am NOT them, but I don't know what you want from me Jaskier, how you expect me to let you just run head first back into danger when you're still barely able to manage a walk around the yard without being exhausted."

"It's MY choice, and I'm not WEAK Geralt, I am a damn sight stronger than you give me credit for, and I do it without all the magic and bullshit that the rest of you have." He draws in a steadying breath, trying to slow the heaving of his chest, as much as he hated to prove Geralt right in this moment he is exhausted.  
"You never had this much of a problem with me running into danger with you before, how is this ANY different?" 

"Because it was all before I realised what you were." Geralt grits it out like it's painful, he's hitting the end of his tether, Jaskier can tell, but he's helpless to stop himself from walking back toward him on that mountain, to stop the words freeing themselves, he NEEDS this, has this almost compulsive need to push and see if Geralt will keep his word.

"It took you twenty two years to realise I'm your friend, and your friends getting hurt isn't something to be apathetic about? Really Geralt?" He spreads his arms emphatically, ever the performer,  
"Well congratulations you know how I've felt for decades, but I still never stopped you from going on your contracts over it, I went WITH YOU to make sure you were OKAY, to look after you when you WEREN'T." He doesn't mean to do it really, to be shouting and angry, for it to be an accusation, but it's as if everything is coming pouring out of him, and he's helpless to stop it.  
"Why is this ANY DIFFERENT!"

"BECAUSE YOU WERE NEVER JUST MY FRIEND, AND NOW I FUCKING KNOW THAT." Geralt's eyes are a feral thing, wild not with his anger, but with desperation, and it's what makes Jaskier pause enough to choke back the angry retort that wants to burst out of him, to calm himself.

"Then why, Geralt, if I'm not your friend, why."

"I- YOU..." Two decades, two decades and he'd never seen Geralt struggle with words as much as he has these last two weeks, Geralt snarls and turns away pacing a few steps, before throwing himself back around a moment later.  
"BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!"

He snaps it at Jaskier and then turns his face away like he expects rebuke, expects rejection, as if he's condemning himself and resigning Jaskier to a terrible fate all at once, and that just, that can't stand.  
He approaches Geralt like he's a startled animal, so he's close enough that he should be able to feel his breath on his cheek, and moves up on to his tip toes best he can balance on one leg, until he's able to place his elbows onto Geralt's shoulders, his forearms hovering behind his head. It's the closest he can get to an embrace and his irritation at being unable to use his hands or arms is peaking again, to be unable to cradle Geralt's face right now is almost criminal, but hopefully the intent in his proximity is comforting.   
I'm not leaving it says,   
I'm not afraid it comfirms,   
stay it pleads.   
Jaskier rests his forehead on Geralt's cheekbone, he'd tensed when Jaskier had gotten close, but he seems more confused than uncomfortable, unsure what to do with a reaction he may not have expected.

"When I saw you in Posada" he starts, voice soft,  
"I wanted to climb you like a tree." Geralt snorts at that lips curling slightly and Jaskier considers it a victory.  
"And then the elves happened, and you did nothing but protect me even when you never wanted me there to begin with." Jaskier traces his nose along Geralt's jaw "you gave up all your coin to them, and I started falling in love with you that day, and more every day for the 22 years that followed." He pauses, Geralt having grown rigid in his arms again, wishing he could have held his face and looked into his eyes to know what he was thinking. Though he does think he has an idea, what comes next in their story after those 22 years is heartbreak and torture, not the most romantic part of his declaration but it needs to be said.

"And then the mountain happened, and I, I asked you to come with me to the coast, and you broke my heart a little, and then we reached the top and you broke my heart a lot." He swallows around the tears he can feel trying to rise,  
"and then uh, and then the whole kidnapping and torture thing, where all I could think about was keeping you safe, all that kept me going was knowing you were far away from that place even if you hated me, because I couldn't let you go." Geralt makes a wounded noise then his hands coming to rest on Jaskier's hips, and it startles Jaskier enough to look up and see him watching, his own eyes shining with brimming tears. He doesn't think he's ever seen Geralt cry. He doesn't like it, so he pushes on. 

"But you still came, and you got me out of there, like some fairy tale knight, as you've always been." Allowing the note of awe he feels to bloom in his voice, he keeps eye contact, makes sure Geralt is looking and can see his sincerity,  
"I never stopped loving you Geralt, I don't think I could even if I tried."

"I don't want you to," Geralt cuts in quickly "to try that, I mean" his eyes cut away again, and down, before coming back up to meet his, and oh Jaskier would love to kiss him right now, to get lost in it, but they still needed to talk.

"Well, that's good, and I do love you, but that doesn't change my mind about coming down the mountain."  
Geralt huffs, frustrated, his hands spasm where they still rest on Jaskier's hips, so he presses on undeterred.  
"I know you don't understand it Geralt, but I need this. I need to see it happen so I can move past this. I won't ever feel safe without knowing, without seeing with my own eyes." 

"You don't trust I would do everything to keep you safe?" Geralt looks pained at the thought of it, he's no longer looking at Jaskier.

"It's not about trust Geralt, I just." He sighs, his aches and pains are really making themselves known but they need to finish this conversation.  
"Come sit with me" he says slowly untangling himself from Geralt and moving over to the bed.

They sit face to face but Geralt is looking at the furs instead of making eye contact, he looks dejected and Jaskier doesn't know how to fix it.

"It's not that I don't trust you to look after me, you know I trust you more than anyone, but you can't be with me all of the time."

"I can, I could-"

"No Geralt, are you never going to take a contract again? Never go to bed early while I play a tavern set? Are you going to travel to Oxenfurt and stay in the city for a week or two at a time during competition season? It's not practical, and I can't ask that of you." Jaskier can tell he has him now, as much as he'd refuse to admit it, they can't be tied together for every hour of every day.  
"He's in my head Geralt, I know you can take down anyone, but this paranoia is ruining me and I can't take much more of it. Please." He reaches for Geralt's knee, resting his hand there as feather light as he can, watches Geralt's gaze fix on it.

"If we do this," he starts, and Jaskier has to fight not to grin,   
"you have to promise me that you'll listen to me, that you'll stay where you're supposed to." Geralt looks at him "and we're bringing Eskel, I won't chance this, he dies tomorrow, I know you're not weak but you're still injured Jaskier, and if I need to chase after him I won't leave you alone."

Jaskier does smile then, a broad thing he can feel taking over his face and pushing at his cheeks.  
"Thank you, Geralt, I promise to stay where you put me, thank you." He leans in and pecks Geralt on the cheek "thank you, really." He kisses his cheek again, lingering a moment longer before pulling back.

\--  
Geralt looks at his beaming face, let's it warm him from the inside, he hasn't seen Jaskier smile unreservedly like this in so long, and as scared as he is about his safety tomorrow, he knows he's made the right choice.

They'll discuss the details of their plan tonight, and ask Eskel to accompany them, see if Triss and Yennefer can portal them to the bottom of the mountain. But for now he just wants to bask in this, just let himself be happy that Jaskier, that Jaskier loves him.

"Come on, you look tired, we can talk more later." He kicks his boots off and moves to lay back on the bed, waiting for Jaskier to do the same.

"Alright, I know that was a lot of emotions all in one go, I'll let it rest for now." He yawns and Geralt refuses to be endeared at the sleepy softness of him. It takes some maneuvering around Jaskier's arms but eventually they get pleasantly entwined, and settle in for a much deserved nap in comfortable silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A fight ahead!
> 
> Chapter title is from Light em up by fallout boy


	9. I move through town, I'm quiet like a fire.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fergus is confronted, catharsis is had, bards are hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heed the violence tag for this chapter guys.

They head through the portal not long after dawn, wanting to slip in to the tavern in town without the Witchers being spotted. As much as Geralt hates it he's the one that Fergus was looking for, so Eskel heads inside with Jaskier while he sets up beside it in the alleyway, he holds on to the thought that it'll be finished today, that it'll be done, and trusts his brother to keep Jaskier safe.

He trains his hearing on the room inside, keeping his senses locked on Jaskier and occasionally wandering past a window closer to the front to get a line of sight on him, knowing he can't linger lest he be spotted. He's impatient, even after confirming with the smith that Fergus was still seen in town yesterday, Geralt cannot shake the adrenaline telling him to track and chase and hunt, the restless energy telling him to head into that inn and demand his room number to slaughter him in his bed.

But Jaskier was right, this town is far more tolerant of Witchers than most, thankful their quiet presence and protection, happy to help them, and that reputation is important to Kaer Morhen.  
So no corpses or messes left behind for the villagers to find.

The plan was simple, not too many chances to go wrong, some but not many, Jaskier would sit in the tavern watching the stairs until Fergus came down, get up, look panicked, and leave. They were counting on Fergus following him outside, past where Geralt was waiting, Eskel following behind him to box him in, simple but effective.  
He settles best he can, waiting until he can be of use, not quite meditating but using Jaskier as a lodestone to keep him calm. It works, for a time, but it can't have been more than half an hour before he hears Eskel shout and a chair scrape across the floorboards.

\--  
You wanted this, he reminds himself as he strides through the tavern doors with a slight limp and confidence he doesn't really feel, heading to the innkeep and asking if Geralt has made it into town yet. He see's a younger looking lad collecting breakfast plates from the table trying to conspicuously listen in on their conversation, hurrying off behind the counter as soon as Jaskier takes a seat. 

He turns away and faces the stairs, needing to see Fergus as soon as possible, to know when he's been spotted so he can leave without letting him get too close. Gods this was a stupid idea, why did he think he could do this, Geralt was right he shouldn't be here. The more time that passes the more anxious he gets, he can feel his heart beating against his chest like it's trying to escape, he wishes he could order an ale to calm his nerves but he wouldn't be able to hold the stupid thing to drink it, and not for the first time he curses how slowly he heals. 

He glances over at Eskel, out of sight from the stairs, hidden in a corner as Witchers are prone to, he looks calm enough, okay good, calm, he can breathe through this. And if he can't well, he is a trained performer after all. He projects as much outward calm as he can, not wanting to look suspicious as he waits. Jaskier sees the boy from before return to the bar out the corner of his eye, can feel the tension in the room rising and struggles to keep from fidgeting in his seat.

He's unsure how much time has passed when he hears the tavern door open behind him, but Eskel shouts his name a moment later, he looks a lot less calm now, eyes wide and his hand on his sword as he pushes to his feet. Before Jaskier can turn, a hand lands on his shoulder, fingers immediately digging in harshly as a voice whispers in his ear.

"Hello Darling, fancy seeing you here."  
His blood turns to ice, and he feels stuck in place, eyes cutting to Eskel where he still stands over by the corner, why is he just standing there. He feels the dig of the dagger in his side much too late to be able to do anything about it, not quite breaking skin but the threat is there, he realises Eskel can't help him right now.

"Not even going to say hello? No matter, there will be plenty of time to get reacquainted won't there." Fergus' breath is hot on his neck, voice pitched low like he's talking to a lover, it makes him feel sick, and he knows he can't go back there, he knows he won't survive a second time.  
"Here's what we're going to do, your guard dog is going to sit back at his table and we're going to go for a stroll. Stand up sweetheart."

Jaskier doesn't move, he doesn't think he's even breathing right now, he needs to calm down and think more clearly, he is not weak, didn't he just tell Geralt yesterday that he's not weak? He's Jaskier, he's a fucking Witcher's bard for Melitele's sake, and alright maybe the key to overriding his paralyzing fear is the rage he can feel building.

"I said. Stand. Up." Jaskier stands looking towards Eskel he tries to give him some reassurance with his eyes, this can still work if they just walk past the alley where Geralt is waiting. He can do this, if thoughts of Geralt kept him sane last time they can do so again.

"Let's go." Fergus says, prodding him towards the back door of the tavern,  
"We can't forget your white wolf now can we?" Well shit.  
"Oh petal, don't look so surprised, I've been watching since you arrived in town, had to keep quite the distance to avoid those pesky Witcher senses, but Lorrence over there was very helpful, putting a marker in the front window once you were inside, all for a bit of coin. Well worth it I assure you" he's talking so jovially, like he's just making small talk to pass the time, and Jaskier is suddenly aware of how mechanical his own steps have become.

They exit the door Fergus practically pressing him against it to turn the handle without removing the dagger where it's still pressed snugly against his side, hand returning to Jaskier's shoulder.

"You know, I didn't expect you to get this far" he says casually as they move into the daylight, Geralt is waiting for them as soon as they step outside, and he looks enraged as he begins to close the gap between them.  
"Stay back Witcher, or this goes between his ribs before you take a step."  
He can see the moment the dagger registers, Geralt stilling where he stands, swords out and chest heaving.

"Where was I? Oh yes, I didn't think you'd get this far, my sister really did ruin you beautifully, I suppose I should have known better, you were such a resilient little bird." Geralt's hands are gripping his sword hilts so tightly Jaskier wouldn't be surprised to see finger marks dented into the metal when he lets go, so Jaskier catches his eye and gives a minute nod, they can work with this, Jaskier just needs to keep his head. Keep him talking and get his guard down until he can think of a plan.

"Let him go." Geralt grits out, forcing himself further into a visibly deadly calmness with each breath, he looks every inch the predator and Jaskier thinks in any other situation he'd love to explore that some more.

"Oh come now, you can't have thought you'd be the one making demands here. Drop the swords." Jaskier is so glad he cannot see his face, it helps barely keep the impending panic attack at bay, but he doesn't need to see to know there's a smirk on it right now, can hear the cockiness in his voice, he was right they can do something with this. Geralt complies.

"You're going to tell me where you've hidden Princess Cirilla of Cintra." Geralt growls at him, but it cuts off when Jaskier gasps as the dagger slices along his ribs. It's only shallow, probably won't even scar, but it served it's warning well enough.

"We split up after Sodden, I was barely with her," he pauses a moment playing well at reluctance "she went with a caravan, nobody knew who she was." 

Fergus hummed, considering, moving his right hand up slowly from Jaskier's shoulder until it covered his mouth  
"See, I don't quite believe you." He lifted the dagger, so Jaskier could see it too, made a show of changing his grip and pressing his mouth right to his ear.  
"keep quiet pet, wouldn't want to draw attention." He plunges the dagger down into Jaskier's thigh, white hot pain blooming with the blood around the blade, Fergus leaves it sheathed there to grasp his hip instead, pulling their bodies together with his hold on Jaskier's face. Jaskier manages to supress the scream fighting to be released, the shock aiding his silence, he refuses to give Geralt more to brood over, huffing forceful breaths out through his nose he keeps his composure.

"Now, I know you wouldn't have abandoned your child of surprise with strangers where you'd not know what became of her, so why don't you tell me the truth and we can be done with this."  
Fergus' thumb strokes Jaskier's hip, so much contact grating at him, an itchy buzzing under his skin that's building the longer they were pressed together. 

"It was safer for her." Geralt bites out, snarling and showing his teeth, he clenches and unclenches his fists again, it's almost compulsive the amount of times he shifts them, and Jaskier knows that he's desperate to intervene.

"Mmm I'll bet." His hand is squeezing Jaskier's hip harder now, and he keeps talking but all Jaskier is registering is static, the feeling of ants crawling under his skin intensifying but then he realises with sudden clarity that if both of Fergus' hands are on him, he doesn't have a weapon. He tunes back into the conversation, waiting for his moment, needs Fergus to focus on Geralt, to loosen his grip just enough.

"It's a shame really, I know I always called you pretty thing, but with these?" He shifts his hand off Jaskier's hip to grasp his right wrist and he does scream then, muffled by the hand over his mouth, thrashes where he's still being held to Fergus' chest. He's crying now and he hates it, he hates him.

"You know, I was named for an emperor," he starts, as if he isn't digging his fingers into the bandages protecting Jaskier's still wounded flesh "my sister however, she was named for a saint, and isn't that ironic sweetling." His face is so close to Jaskier, nose bumping into the shell of his ear as he writhes in his arms.  
"Tell me Geralt, were you the one that killed her?" He impossibly increases the pressure on Jaskier's wrist, and his voice cracks into silence again, he sobs, and the devestated look so openly on Geralt's face is what tips him over the edge. Fuck this, and fuck waiting for an opening that might not come.

Jaskier drops his head forward before driving it back directly into Fergus' smug face, he shouts but doesn't let go completely, though it loosens his hold enough that Jaskier can latch his teeth into the meat of the palm that was covering his mouth. Hard. Now Fergus is the one screaming, and Jaskier feels satisfaction in the blood freely flowing around his teeth. Tearing his mouth away and taking some flesh with it he kicks out with his uninjured leg, hearing a crack as he connects with his knee, and that does make Fergus let go collapsing as his leg suddenly gives out from under him.  
He starts to recover quickly, already pawing at Jaskier again, and he sees red, pulling his arm forward before driving his elbow back into Fergus' already damaged nose, the crunch it creates far more gratifying than it has any right to be. 

\--  
Only seconds have passed since he'd been released but Geralt is a blur of motion passing him with his swords out and bringing Fergus down onto his back on the ground with his steel sword right through his shoulder, driving deep down into the earth below him, while his legs are thrashing on the ground looking for purchase.

"Can't forget, silver, for monsters." He spits, driving the silver sword through his thigh and pinning him down properly. He turns quickly to Jaskier who is understandably unsteady on his feet, wavering on the spot and staring down at Fergus pinned flat like the framed bugs nobles are so fond of displaying.  
Geralt can't quite discern the look on his face, it's unnerving, but he did say he needed to see this. He steadies him, but knows better than to ask if he's okay right now, no matter how much he desires to coddle him and carry him back to Kaer Morhen, where he can keep him safe and protected as long as he'll allow.

"Here, let me." He helps Jaskier over next to Fergus' body, to drop to a knee without too much difficulty.

"You know, it's really poetic that you were named after an emperor," Jaskiers voice is gravelly, a crackling whisper, and Fergus stops struggling to stare directly at him, it sends a shudder through Jaskier that makes Geralt want to end this quicker, but he won't take Jaskier's catharsis from him.  
"Because now, Fergus, you can die like one." Geralt watches, too slow to stop Jaskier from pulling the dagger from his own thigh and shoving into Fergus' neck, he stabs him twice more yelling out his rage in that broken voice, before Geralt can softly pull him back.

He's sobbing and Geralt is at a loss for what to say, so he settles Jaskier against his chest and gently as he can uncurls his fist from around the hilt of the dagger. His hand is stiff, stuck partially cramped, and there's blood soaking into the bandages but Geralt can't focus on that now, not with the blood still weeping from his thigh. Eskel appears beside him, pushing his hand aside from where it's putting pressure on the wound to tie it off tightly. 

Jaskier is staring off into space now, unresponsive as he was when Geralt found him in the cell, so he holds him close and lets Eskel deal with collecting his swords, and crushing the enchanted flower Triss had given them to alert her and Yennefer to open a portal. 

Geralt carries Jaskier through, and Eskel hauls Fergus' body along behind them as they travel back to Kaer Morhen, there's a lot to be done and Jaskier is far from okay, but now that Fergus is dead he can start to properly heal, and that's all that matters to Geralt now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's Fergus dead  
> Fun fact, the emperor from the witcher lore I named Fergus after was killed by an usurper :)
> 
> Title is from Yellow flicker beat, by lorde 
> 
> Not long to go now guys, some fluff and recovery next chapter and then the epilogue :)


	10. When the smoke clears, I'll be right here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier is high while healing, Geralt tells an important story

Jaskier wakes up in his now familiar room in Kaer Morhen, everything feels fuzzy in the best way and he's still incredibly tired, but he's not hurting even though he vaguely recalls he should be.   
He can see Geralt's head at his side where he's leaning against the matress while he meditates, clearly waiting for Jaskier to wake up.

"Heyy." He croaks barely audible, and ugh not this again, he's spent enough time these last few weeks with hardly any voice to last him a lifetime. Geralt jolts and quickly stands, hovering about Jaskier like a mother hen, and isn't that just an endearing thought, Geralt with a bunch of little chicks following him around. 

He opens his mouth to speak again and a cup is immediately placed against his lips, so he rolls his eyes happy to drink until Geralt is satisfied, and okay maybe this was one if his better ideas because this is the best water he's ever had.

"Are you hungry? I have broth, Eskel made it, or should I fetch Triss? Do you want-"

"Heyy, hey, no no, relax, come'n sit w'me Geralt"   
He gestures next to himself with a sluggish movement and wiggles aside to make more room, he doesn't get very far, that pleasant fuzziness making him clumsy. Geralt's mouth thins, but he gently helps Jaskier move to the side and joins him on the bed.

"Why'm I all" He flops his arm in the general direction of himself "this?"

"I'm inclined to think you've been dropped on your head too many times, but I'm sure we'll never know." Geralt says, voice dry before his eyes widen a little as if he's shocked himself.

"Uh, I didn't mean-" he looks like a chastised school boy and Jaskier snorts at him.

"Yoou made a joke." Geralt's brow furrows, but it looks like he's fighting a smile, he looks pretty when he smiles. So Jaskier tells him as much, reaching up to touch it.

"Mmm pretty." He's sure he meant to be more articulate than that, but it does make Geralt roll his eyes at him exasperated.

"You're high as a kite." He says with a shake of his head and a fond smile, he allows Jaskier to pat his face a few more times before lightly gripping his arm above his elbow and guiding it back down to the furs.

"No YOU'RE high s'a kite." He pouts, just to be contrary really,  
"A pretty kite." He decides, trying to reach for Geralt again.

"Triss brewed you up something with poppy, and a few things Vessemir collected when he headed down for supplies," he wrangles Jaskiers arms again patiently, "you might not be able to feel it but you're still hurt, stay still."

Jaskier heaves a great put upon sigh at being redirected, he just wants to pat his face a bit, maybe kiss him, is that too much to ask?

"M'allowed now y'know" Geralt just looks at him, confused.

"Allowed to what?" He asks when Jaskier doesn't elaborate. 

He watches Geralts lips while he talks and loses his train of thought, he really is beautiful, he said he loves him, that probably means they can kiss now. Oh right!  
"Kissing!" He blurts 

"How about you eat something first, then we'll see?" Geralt looks amused now, he grabs a bowl and spoon from the bedside table, so Jaskier tries to take them, but he moves them out of reach easily, scooping up some broth and holding it to his lips.  
"Come on, let me look after you."

"I c'get used to this y'know, if you're not careful." Geralt is looking at him with this soft, barely sad look, and he can't really understand why.

"You should, and I hope," he looks down at the concentrating hard, it feels familiar.   
"I hope you do, you deserve to." He blushes then, and Jaskier is so distracted by it that he almost misses Geralts next words.  
"You should expect care from me, I'll start to be better about it, I will." He looks so serious, and Jaskier doesn't know what to do with it, does he really think he's never shown care before?  
He narrows his eyes and points a finger right in Geralts face, he looks apprehensive, and sort of...resigned? like he's expecting something bad and Jaskier can't quite understand why.

"Yoou do care." He feels satisfied with this until Geralt replies.

"Yes I do, I'll prove it to you, I swear." He looks even sadder and that just makes Jaskier's chest hurt, and he's apparently on the good drugs so he's not sure how.

"No you, Mmm, y'always showed me, in yr'own way" he puts his bandaged hands on each of Geralt's cheeks and squishes, tilting his head so that Geralt is stuck looking at him, he moves his arms up in an aborted movement to stop him, still occupied with bowl and spoon still in hand.  
"V'always known, an I LOVE you." He says, emphatically, he's not even getting distracted by Geralt's pretty eyes, he deserves some credit here,  
"I'm being verry serious Geralt, y'know."  
The blush is back, and Jaskier likes that much better, can feel a bit of heat radiating off the cheeks under his palms.  
"Y'understand, right?" He makes Geralt's head nod up and down, before nodding his own once, satisfied.  
Leaning forward he clumsily pecks the side of Geralt's lips before flopping back against the veritable mountain of pillows behind him.

Geralt looks, well he still hasn't moved, bowl and spoon held mid air, blush on his cheeks, and eyes wide. He looks frozen so Jaskier decides to be merciful and opens his mouth for the spoon, the action spurs Geralt into motion, a fresh spoon of broth fed carefully into his mouth, it's not very warm but Jaskier doesn't have it in him to complain when Geralt looks so soft right now.

"I love you Jaskier, you- you're the heart of me." Geralt's face, if possible, goes even redder, so Jaskier again with the mercy today simply hums and smiles at him happily. He allows himself to be fed until the bowl is empty, and to help him drink some herby tasting tea with honey, it's rather bitter, he scrunches his face and Geralt chuckles at him.

"It'll help your throat, sorceresses orders." Jaskier does mean to reply, but his thoughts are interrupted by a jaw poppingly large yawn, his eyes are feeling quite heavy. Geralt moves to get off of the bed so he whines, he would like some cuddles, he thinks he's rather earned them in his opinion, and a nap. Luckily Geralt doesn't go far, just places the cup back on the table and settles back, pulling Jaskier to his side.

"S'good. Thankyou f'looking after me, love."  
Geralts arm squeezes him that bit closer in reply, keeping him comfortably cradled, it's nice, this is nice.

"Sleep now Jaskier, I've got you, I've always got you, dear heart." And Jaskier knows he does, he's never been more sure.

"kay love, okay." He says and closes his eyes, rubbing his cheek on Geralt where he's using him as a pillow, feeling secure, and safe, and loved. He can definitely get used to this.

\--  
Over the next few days Jaskier is in and out of conciousness and they keep him well dosed up with Triss' potion. He's still incoherent enough that Yennefer feels she has plenty of blackmail material by the time they're confident that he won't have to re-experience his first few days in Kaer Morhen, when he comes to without it.

"He cried because he realised Roach only speaks horse and she doesn't know he loves her, Geralt, what else am I supposed to do with that information?"

His right wrist where Fergus dug his fingers in had been a mess, skin too delicate for rough treatment, let alone purposeful destruction. Triss and Yennefer help it back along as close to on par with his left again as they're able, while also reduce the depth of the stab wound in his thigh by enough that stitches would hold and the muscle would heal without permanent damage beyond another scar. Now they just had to wait for Jaskier to wake up properly.

Geralt would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous, the blind panic when Jaskier had first woken up was not something he wanted to experience again. Seeing him mindlessly hurting himself in his fear and not being able to do anything to give comfort had left a deep ache in his chest.   
He curses how often he feels useless and helpless around him, it's been days since their confrontation with Fergus and Geralt still feels whispers of the same terror he felt seeing Jaskier be hurt and being unable to intervene.

When Jaskier finally wakes it's with a groan and a rasp, Geralt sitting across the room in a chair, mirroring that first night so as not to crowd him.  
He waits patiently for Jaskier to notice him, let's him wake up from his groggy state in his own time, hoping he remembers where he is if he wakes gently.

Jaskier sniffles, his chest stutters in a silent sob and Geralts stomach drops,

"Jaskier?" He calls softly, and his head snaps over to where Geralt is sitting, he looks distraught, so Geralt prepares to go over and keep him still, to try and minimise the damage at the first sign of struggling.

Instead Jaskier sobs in earnest, harsh sounds wrenched out of him as he reaches for Geralt with tears overflowing, he's over on the bed embracing him before he even registers doing so.

"Shhh, hush you're alright dear heart, you're safe now." Geralt tries to quiet him, shifting so Jaskier is fully cradled in his lap, covering him in as much as possible. Jaskier is a man, not a tiny one either, tall as Geralt and strong, if more lean in his muscle and still recovering from being underfed, but surrounded like this in Geralt's arms he looks so small, so fragile. Jaskier has always been such a large presence, takes up any room he's in and fills it with life and sound and brightness, it feels wrong to see that light snuffed so harshly for so long, and it tugs on his heartstrings fiercely.

"I'm not though, I'm not, I'm not okay, why aren't I okay!" Geralt hums, doesn't really understand, nobody had expected him being completely okay right now, he still needs to heal and rest, nobody anticipated any different.

"He's dead, it's supposed to be over, it was supposed to make me OKAY." Jaskier is near wailing now, voice rasping and breaking, cracking along with Geralt's heart because he KNOWS that's not how it works, that slaying your physical demons only goes so far and doesn't slay the ones in your mind, nor does it reverse the marks they left.

"You don't have to be completely okay right now, you need to give yourself time to heal."

"What I NEED was for it to fix me, it was supposed to fix me" he insists, and Geralt holds him even closer, closing the nonexistent space between them.

"Did I ever tell you about a contract I completed, for a doppler assassin?" He knows he hasn't, puts telling Jaskier about more of his past contracts on his list of things to improve on, and waits to feel Jaskier shake his head where it's pressed into his chest before continuing.

"At first it was just stories of a spate of murders in the area, it didn't seem like a creature at first, and I never would have suspected a doppler, they're almost entirely peaceful by nature, avoid conflict like the plague." He pauses and takes stock, Jaskiers breathing has evened out so he continues.

"I wasn't going to get involved when it seemed human, that's not really a witchers place, until days later a drunk villager mentioned how I was fast to beat him back to the inn from the tavern." He swallows roughly and clears his throat, remembering this story's purpose he presses on.

"By the time I caught up with it, it was still wearing my face, and was killing a mother and her young daughter, a local lord paying for them to be hunted down because he could not leave alive the evidence of a child he created out of wedlock. If I had arrived moments earlier I could have-" He sighs harshly, cutting himself off and shifting Jaskier so his head rests in the crook of his neck. He doesn't interrupt, but he does press his forehead closer, a solid presence that helps ground him as he always does.

"It escaped into a crowd, shifting forms multiple times and it took me another week to find it again and slay it. That whole time the image of myself murdering that child haunted me, I threw myself into chasing the creature down, into killing it, thinking those feelings would die with it and lay the memory to rest." He clutches at Jaskier, turning his own cheek to rest on his hair and breathe, settling himself.

"It didn't help, I had plenty of sleepless nights over that image replaying in my head, until it balanced out, I destroyed a nest of drowners, saved a boy they had trapped hiding up a tree, got to help him reunite with his parents. It didn't erase what happened, but time and good memories lessened the harm." He could feel dampness on his neck, and for a moment he felt he must have made the wrong choice.

"The world has always been so cruel to you Geralt, yet you're the most resilient, the most reliable man I know." He sniffed again bringing a hand up to wipe his face before huffing and rubbing his face dry on Geralts shirt.  
"I don't know how you do it."

He feels his face heat, and he's glad Jaskier can't see it.  
"That's not what- that's not why I'm telling you this, I thought killing that doppler would 'fix me' too, but it didn't. That creature being dead didn't undo anything it ready did, but it did stop it from doing more, and then I could heal." He inhales deeply, nose pressed in Jaskier's hair, it was soothing, easy comfort in a way he hoped he could also provide.

"He is dead and gone now, he can't hurt you any more, and you have people here, to help you make good memories, and," he thought he'd have to steel himself to say it again, but it feels right, he doesn't even need to force the words "and to love you while you heal yourself for any moments where you cannot." He kisses Jaskier's hair "You're not alone." Jaskier lifts his head.

"I love you too, Geralt, and thank you, you're always just, you're so-" Jaskier cuts himself off with a frustrated noise thunking his forehead down on Geralt's shoulder again.  
"Too many emotions, this is exhausting, time for kissing."  
Geralt chuckles at him, and Jaskier pulls his face back fully,  
"Oh Melitele I sound like you." He makes a face and looks at Geralt before a smirk slowly blooms,  
"And don't think I didn't hear you call me dear heart." Geralt's face could probably glow with how deeply he's blushing now, and it's embarrassing, so he tries hiding his face, but Jaskier stops him.  
"None of that now love, I didn't say I didn't like it."

"No you were right before, enough emotions, kissing now."  
He has a small smile on his face as he stares at Geralt's a moment, he's so distracted by it that he's unprepared for Jaskier lunging forward suddenly and kissing him thoroughly, all Geralt can think beyond Jaskier, and yes, and the warmth settling in his chest, is that yeah, they're not alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some high Jaskier, as a fluffy treat, because the boys deserved a break dangit
> 
> Chapter title from Smoke Clears by Andy Grammer


	11. Burning bright, as we reach out for the same horizon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut, and a short epilogue.

Jaskier is happy he doesn't have to sleep by himself anymore, the cold not as opressive when he has Geralt next to him, and the comfort of no longer waking up alone after nightmares a balm on his battered heart. The kissing is nice too. So he is happy, it's just, well it's... raised a new issue, so to speak.

Geralt is unfairly handsome, and he's been nothing but doting and sweet since they'd returned from town, anticipating Jaskier's needs, telling him about his older hunts, encouraging his brothers to tell him stories and stay with him while he naps and Geralt's working outside. He even brought him some flowers from out in the forest that Jaskier has pressed in his journal for safe keeping. Flowers.  
It's just all so...nice, and unexpected, he doesn't need Geralt to be anything but himself but the romantic in him swoons at the gestures.

Yet whenever they're kissing and things start to get heated Geralt still always pulls away.

So when Geralt curls against him at night, holds Jaskier safe in his arms, or pulled securely against his chest touching from shoulder to tangled legs it's lovely, but it's making it harder to hide his, ah, morning arousal.  
Nobody can judge him, he thinks, waking up surrounded by all that muscle and held so gentley anyone would have the same reaction.

So sleeping with Geralt next to him is great, but Jaskier doesn't think he's ever been this sexually frustrated in his life, he can't even take care of it himself when he's injured like this. He's so pent up all the time he could weep, and Geralt is either politely ignoring his predicament or completely unaware of it, but they've confessed their love for one another, surely this is something Jaskier bring up. 

Or is asking for this taking advantage? Geralt has been eager to do anything he asks because of his injuries, it would be unfair to ask when Geralt didn't feel like he could say no. He resolves to wait for Geralt to bring it up on his own.

Days pass and Jaskier finds himself much more under control, practiced at squashing down his inconvenient arousal, that is until Geralt ruins it by walking in shirtless after a day of repairs to the keep and severely tests his morals. There's sweat. And muscles. He's only so strong.

Geralt clears his throat and he realises he's been staring, and Geralt notices too if the smug look on his face is anything to go by, but unlike Jaskier he blinks and snaps himself out of it.

"Anything in particular you want for lunch?" He says, but Jaskier is still stuck on this one bead of sweat dipping into the V of Geralt's hip. He wants to lick it.

"Jaskier, lunch?" Jaskier closes his mouth where his jaw had slightly dropped open.

"Well I know something I'd like to get in my mouth." He says without thinking.

Geralt's mouth opens and closes a few times before he says,  
"When you're healed up, then we'll talk about it." He says it carefully, and with obvious reluctantance, Jaskier can work with that.

"Why wait? You've been looking after me so well, and you've been so patient with me these last few weeks, let me take care of you for a change." he moves to the edge of the bed and sits himself in front of Geralt.

"See that's what I mean," he says, softly resting a hand on the side of Jaskier's neck, "you don't need to do this just because you were looked after, it isn't some sort of payment for being patient when-"

"Oh my god Geralt I love you but shut up and let me suck your cock, for Melitele's sake I don't NEED to I WANT to. If you don't WANT me to that's a different story but don't hold back on my account." Geralt just stares at him, he has his thinking face on, the one where he gets a little suspicious crease between his brows. Jaskier barely resists the urge to roll his eyes and instead kisses above Geralt's waistband, he can't undo the ties himself so his only option is Geralt letting go of his reluctance and doing it for him.

"But are you sure you're not just-" he gestures to the air, seemingly out of words for now, and Jaskier thunks his forehead onto his hip bone in frustration.

"Okay Geralt, let me make myself clear, I haven't been able to jerk off for weeks," he waves his bandaged hands for emphasis, "you are unfairly hot, and I'm in love with you, I'd really enjoy being able to get my mouth on you and I'd like make you feel good. Is that okay with you?" Geralt nods, and stares some more, like he's waiting for something, and Jaskier realises he hasn't noticed he'll have to undo his own breeches.

"Are you going to undo those or do you expect me to chew through them?" He says teasingly, and Geralt sighs, the familiar sound half exasperation half fondness, just the way he likes it.

"You're really setting the mood here, your pillow talk could use some work." Geralt says dryly, undoing the ties and pushing the cloth down mid thigh.

"You don't seem to mind." Jaskier replies looking ahead at his cock curving towards his stomach as soon as it's released and then back up at Geralt, smile firmly in place. Geralt only hums in reply, so he leans forward and trails his lips along the side of his shaft until he reaches the tip, Geralt may have been to many brothels in his time but Jaskier would be damned if he didn't have plenty of skill to share.

"Let me hear you love" Jaskier says, looking up at Geralt under his lashes before taking him into his mouth, maintaining eye contact as he slowly sinks lower and lower, go big or go home he thinks, throat relaxing to allow Geralt inside until his nose is pressed to his white happy trail.

Geralt groans a low wounded sound, that Jaskier prides in, he might make it look easy but Geralt is no small man to take, he thinks about how his voice will rasp from it tomorrow, a husky note to remind him of tonights pleasure and swallows.

"Fuck Jaskier" Geralt's hand comes up to the side of his head, holding him but not keeping him, so Jaskier leans into it.  
He pulls back up, trailing his tongue along the underside as he goes, Geralt's fingers twitching on top of his hair helping him to memorise any sensitive places to pay extra attention.  
When he reaches the crown he keeps the head within his mouth and sucks, hollowing his cheeks, the 'o' of his mouth obscene around Geralt's cock, he can imagine the picture he makes, lips red, hair disheveled where his head is cradled in Geralt's large hand.

He hoods his eyes and blinks demurely up at Geralt, the burn of his gaze , the intense heat of his whole focus, warms Jaskier deep in his chest, he loves this.  
Geralt is breathing heavily, Jaskier withdraws and places open mouth kisses and kitten licks along the length of him, keeping a careful ear on the little sighs and huffs of breath above him, he knows he's teasing, should probably have mercy on Geralt and take him in earnest, but seeing him coming slowly undone at his hand, or mouth as it were, is an intoxicating power. He's not above waiting for Geralt to beg.

He trails his tongue again, this time following the map of a vein before closing his lips around it and humming, Geralts hips stuttering forward in reply with a moan, before Geralt finally breaks.

"Jask- come on" he grits it out slightly strained, and Jaskier so enjoys testing his patience so he draws back up to the tip again, swirling his tongue and then prodding at his slit with it before pausing.

"I'm sorry, was there something you wanted?" He flicks his tongue just under the head to underline his question, eyes sparkling up at the bitten off curse it earns him.

"You know, bard." And Jaskier has to smirk at that, at pushing Geralt to old habits.

"Now now, Geralt, that wasn't very polite~" he sing songs.

Geralt growls lowly, and Jaskier delights in the way it cuts off into a choked moan when he takes him half way into his mouth and sucks harshly.

"Fuck Jaskier please I- fuck come on" the hand in his hair tightens a bit, and Jaskier pulls back with a kiss to his tip and a victors smile.

"Hmm, I suppose you did say please."   
He dips back down, taking more of him as he goes and bobbing his head at as much of a rythym as he can manage without holding onto Geralts thighs. It doesn't take long before he can tell Geralt's getting close, his thighs tensing and his hand spasming on the side of his head so Jaskier takes him down to the root again and swallows until Geralt spills with a deep groan. He pushes at Jaskier's shoulder, hissing with oversensitivity until he pulls off, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. 

It's quickly wiped away as Geralt pulls him up and spins them so he's sitting on the bed with Jaskier in his lap, straddling his thighs. He reaches into the front of Jaskier's breeches and jerks him roughly, causing him to choke out a rough moan and come in less than a dozen strokes, too worked up to hold back and allow it to last. 

He slumps forwards against Geralt's shoulder, and allows him to maneuver them back onto the bed properly.

"Well that was nice." He says clearing his throat, not lifting his face from where he's mashed it against Geralt's torso,  
"We are definitely doing that again some time, like when I wake up. For longer next time."

Geralt chuckles, "You have quite the mouth on you, I shouldn't be surprised with how much you ta-alk" he draws in a sharp breath as Jaskier bites down harshly on his collarbone, in reprimand.

He huffs out another laugh, Jaskier releases him and hums, content.

"Who knew this was the easiest way to get you quiet." Jaskier bites him again, he's sleepy, it seems like reply enough.

"Alright, alright dear heart, have your nap."

"Mm I did earn it." He says with a rasp, he can feel himself on the edge of dozing, sated and comfortable in Geralt's arms, his last thought as he drifts off is that he was right earlier, they'll definitely have to do this again.

\--  
Epilogue:

"Good, that's it don't push it." Triss says, "remember you need to build back up your grip strength slowly, don't strain your wrist there we go."

Jaskiers hands shake on the strings of his lute, trembling as he strums out the first few notes of 'Toss A Coin' before he has to pause.   
Picking up his lute again was the last thing he needed to feel like he was back to normal, to feel like there was a future past all of this where he could travel with Geralt on the path again. 

In the weeks since Fergus had been killed he'd healed in leaps and bounds, and while his hands were scarred and weak, Triss and Yennefer were finally allowing him to attempt to play, eventually convinced he wouldn't split the delicate new skin that had finally healed over his burns.  
They'd warned him that the scarred skin may impede his dexterity, stop him from playing as well as he used to, but he was determined not to let that stop him.

He played through the next few notes, much slower than usual, but well enough, and Ciri clapped from her place by the hearth.

He starts to sing along, voice echoing around the hall, he hadn't sung in so long, it hadn't felt right without his lute, his melodies, accompanying him, but his voice was strong.

Tremors shudder his hand along the neck of his lute and he closes his eyes, determined to make it through the first chorus, but he has to stop before he gets there, hand cramping and the ache turning into a sharp spike of pain.  
The others in the hall clap for him when he stops, happier with his progress than he is himself, he huffs, irritated.

Geralt kneels in front of him, moving his lute from his hands before taking them in his own one at a time, massaging out the cramps and aches and then bringing them each up to kiss his palms, his fingers, the back of his knuckles.

A smile steals it's way on to Jaskiers face that Geralt returns, and things may not be back to normal, may not be completely healed just yet, but he knows he'll get there, knows he'll have this ridiculous man by his side while he does, he cannot think of anywhere else he'd rather be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's done!  
> Wow that ended up a lot longer than I expected it to, I can't believe I ever thought I'd finish it off under 10k words.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me, and I hope it was an enjoyable enough time :)
> 
> Chapter title from Burning bright by star guardian music

**Author's Note:**

> Tags and rating will be updated as the fic progresses.
> 
> This fic was completed for the wip big bang 2020! Keep an eye out for the lovely art that matches it!
> 
> Special thanks to my lovelies geminillama, count, and welsh; for reading and hype manning, and all the people who sprinted with me on the snuggle server you're all the greatest ♡
> 
> Come talk to me on [Tumblr](https://writing-kiki.tumblr.com) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/TheWriterKiki)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art: I See Fire](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26526223) by [mekare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mekare/pseuds/mekare)




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